Supernatural Episodes in Story Form from s10e12, About a Boy - s10e15
by pastann
Summary: Episodes in story form starting with Episode 12, About a Boy with an alternate ending. Alternate ending continued through episode 15, Things They Carried. Wrapping up loose ends. Thanks to NoilyPrat for beta on e14. Rated M for canon-level violence. Gen. Supernatural, Horror, Drama, Comedy. Sam, Dean, canon side characters.
1. About a Boy

**Season 10, Episode 12: About a Boy: Alternate Ending**

**Pendleton, Oregon**

Muffled voices float through the window of a dive bar with a garish neon BEER sign. The blurred figures of two men are arguing. The man on the right has a tiny ponytail drawn back at the base of his neck and a mean, aggressive look. He pushes the scruffy man back, shoving and slapping the guy's chest, pressuring the man left.

The door of the bar slams open into the crisp night air. "Where's my money" the bartender demands, grabbing the scruffy man roughly by the face, then shoving him out the door. The scruffy man falls on his side onto the pavement as the bartender snarls, "I swear on my mother, JP. I see your face in here again, I'll kill ya." The bartender's broad chest and bearded face are outlined in the light from the open door.

J.P. stands up in a half crouch in his cheap, ill-fitting suit. "Like hell," he retorts weakly. "This is frikin America man, you can't jus..." J.P's whining stops as the bartender steps inside the bar and the heavy door clicks shut.

A homeless teenager with an anxious, frightened look stares at J.P from across the parking lot. "Chou looking at," J.P. snivels at him. The homeless kid looks away and touches the bags in his shopping cart to comfort himself as J.P. walks away.

J.P. staggers up to his car. As he reaches out with his keys, an ugly face appears before J.P. in the car window. As J.P. whirls around in alarm, a thick ugly hand reaches out. A flash of white light fills J.P.'s world and he screams.

The homeless kid turns around. He can see white light shining behind a big, old pickup truck. He runs to look. Behind the truck, curls of white smoke rise from a heap of clothes on the ground. The homeless kid looks around, but nothing is there. The smoke curls up towards the bright, high moon shining over the parking lot.

**The Bunker**

The memory of Crowley's words run through Dean's head as he flips through book after book. "After Cain killed Abel, he became a demon." Dean riffles through a box, then settles down with a book in his lap. Cain's voice echoes in his ears, "I felt connected to you right from the beginning. You and I are very much alike. I can give you the mark, Dean, if it's truly what you want." Dean had replied, "Yeah but when I kill, I kill for a reason. I'm nothing like Cain."

Crowley's final words, "Why are you fighting what you really are?" Dean walks awkwardly to a mirror. The face of his meat suit looks the same.

Days pass. Dean has a tired look as he stares at the book in his lap.

Knock, knock, knock. The door to his bedroom swings open and Sam walks in, carrying an ipad. "Hey. Got a case. Apparently something is taking people and leaving their clothes," Sam says as he walks over and hands the ipad to Dean. "Hmm, about time they gave us an R rating," Dean grunts. "Alright, why don't ya check it out? I'll hold down the fort." Dean holds up the ipad to Sam. Sam does not take the ipad. As Dean continues to hold it up, Sam says, "You haven't left the bunker in a week." Dean gives Sam a look, then tosses the ipad behind him onto the bed, "And?". In an annoyed voice, Sam says, "And... you can't just live the rest of your life locked up in this room."

"I don't know, I got three hots and a cot. Could be worse."

Placatingly, Sam says, "Look, I know you're worried about the mark."

"Yes, Sam, I am, and." Dean interrupts."Between what I did to Charlie..."

Sam breaks in, "Charlie forgave you. How bout you forgive yourself."

Dean huffs. "Because I'm not exactly batting a thousand here you know."

"Yeah I do know that. But staying locked up here sitting on the ground reading the same lore books over and over and over again. It's not gonna help any. You need to get back in the game for your own good. You can beat this Dean," Sam monologues in a falsely hearty voice.

"You really believe that?" Dean says flat-voiced.

"Yeah you're damn right I believe that."

"You know you also believed in the Easter Bunny to, until you were 12."

"No I didn't," Sam scoffs. "Look I was eleven."

"And a half," Dean adds unnecessarily.

"And a half, yeah," Sam acquiesces. Heaving a sigh, he rubs his forehead. "So?"

Dean swallows and looks around disgruntled. He closed the book roughly and places it on a table. "Okay."

**Highway I-84**

The impala zooms down a windy country road. Ugly power lines criss-cross pine trees on the I-84, the highway running through Pendleton, Oregon.

**Pendleton, Oregon**

The homeless kid gestures and waves his arms jerkily as he describes the events, "There's this bright light then bam!" Sam and Dean listen to the witness report, wearing their fake FBI blue suits. "The dude's just gone. Nothing left but uh..."

"A cheap suit and a pair of fleischmanns?" Dean interrupts annoyingly to finish the guy's sentence. Dean grins a chipmunk smile.

"You see anyone else?" Sam asks in a calm voice.

"No sir officer sir." In the light of day, the homeless man looks older, maybe in his early twenties.

"What about a chill," Dean shrugs his shoulders. "Or you smell any rotten eggs?"

"What?" the homeless guy asks? "Naw man uh, smelled flowers though," he says, waving his finger around like a teacher lecturing students.

"Hmm," Dean grunts.

"Smelled flowers," Sam glances over at Dean. "What kind of flowers?"

The homeless man works his face. "Flowerly flowers."

"Flowerly flowers," Sam glances at Dean.

"Look," the man says glancing over his shoulder to check for observers. "We all know what's going on here, okay."

Dean cuts in, a look of resignation on his face, "Don't say it."

"Aliens!" the homeless man says.

"He said it," says Dean.

"Yeah he did," says Sam, grimacing and nodding.

"Dude was abducted. Believe me I know. May 2003 those suckers they grabbed me and they probed me everywhere!"

Sam winces and turns away.

"Oh," Dean says.

"Thanks for your time," Sam says, cutting across the words of the homeless man.

"I'm talking everywhere!" the man curses.

"Yeah!" Sam says as he turns away. "Okay, okay!" he says to cut off the sound of the homeless man's words.

"Well, the wheels just came flying off the bus," Dean says pettily as he and Sam walk away together.

"No cold spots, so it probably wasn't a ghost," Sam speculates.

"No sulfur means no demons, so leaves us with what? Little green dudes and a bucket of lube?" Dean says curtly.

"Or fairies," Sam scoffs, "Or angels," he says more seriously, tapping Dean with the back of his hand.

"I'd rather have the little green dudes." Dean says seriously as they stop in front of the bar.

"Alright, I'll go scope out J.P's place, you uh, you ask around inside."

Dean doesn't answer.

"Or you know what, we don't have to split up," Sam offers.

"No, no it's cool. I can handle a little 20 questions with locals, ok."

"You sure?" Sam presses a little.

Dean replies more confidently, "Yeah, hey look, it's a dive bar. It's my comfort zone. Hm?" Dean pulls out his keys and dangles them in front of Sam.

Sam nods, "Alright, good, great." He takes the keys and walks past Dean, slapping Dean on the shoulder.

Dean walks up to the door of Round Up and swings it open, sauntering into the dingy bar.

Dean walks by the bartender and takes a seat near a pretty woman nursing a glass of water with a slice of lemon in it.

"What can i do you?" the bartender says. It is the same bartender from before. His scruffy shirt is unbuttoned to reveal a clean white undershirt.

"Screw it, I'm gonna believe in myself," Dean mumbles audibly to himself.

"Ho boy," The bartender says, looking away and pretending his customer isn't talking to himself out loud.

"Give me something dark and strong," Dean says, looking down and crossing his arms, leaning on the counter.

Without speaking, the bartender turns to pour a drink.

"Hey, d'you know that guy that went missing, J.P.?" Dean asks as the bartender pours.

The bartender pours and gives Dean a long look. "Who's asking?"

"Just an old pal," Dean lies, blank-faced.

"Look I'm sorry to hear what happened, but, guy's a lowlife. That night, I had to kick his ass out of here for stealing my tips. Whatever J.P. got, probably had it coming." The bartender gives Dean a look.

"Ouch," Dean says as his hand snaps down on the overfilled shotglass and he knocks the drink back. Dean stares down at the counter. His left hand rubs his right forearm where the mark of cain lies underneath the cheap, ill-fitting suit.

The woman looks on, her heavily made-up face gorgeous in the dim light of the bar. "J.P. wasn't that bad," she offers kindly.

"You knew him?" Dean says as he turns toward the woman.

"This isn't exactly Cheers, but yeah. Don't get me wrong. I would not buy a used car from the guy," she scoffs, "but he was harmless."

Dean walks over to the woman. Closer, her face looks old underneath the makeup. "So what was his problem?" Dean asks.

"What wasn't," the woman scoffs. "You're in here getting stunned while the suns still up, your life's a regular charlie foxtrox," she smiles to take the sting out of her words. "Trust me."

Behind them, a large man in a newsboy hat turns his head slightly and unobtrusively to catch their conversation.

"I'm Dean."

"Tina," the woman responds.

Dean lifts two fingers in the air, looking at the bartender, as he and Tina settle in for a long chat.

**A Bar**

The light has faded and it's dark outside. "How do you know Royale Motel in Scranton?" Tina asks.

"My dad, me, and my bro, we got snowed in there for a week!"

"Well, I was there for about 3 months," Tina tops Deans story. "After my father drank all our money away. Lived on white rice, tic tacs, until they kicked us out. Good times." Tina says, grimacing and smiling at the same time. Neither comment on the poor decision-making involved in the situation.

Dean chuckles, "My dad was always working, so I came up with about a 101 ways to make macaroni and cheese."

"Serious?"

"Oh yeah, I'd add ketchup for spice, tuna, hot dogs, fluff marshmallow mix."

"ugh! That sounds disgusting!"

"Heh, well my brother thought it was exotic."

Tina chuckles. "Wow, here's to uh, crappy childhoods."

"Yeah, alright," Dean picks up his overfilled shot glass and clinks Tina's glass. They make faces as the alcohol burns down their throats.

Dean's cell phone rings. "oh, sorry." He fumbles inside his suit jacket's pocket.

Tina starts to get up. "I should go, before you fall hopelessly in love with me."

Dean looks down at the cell phone. It's Sam calling. As Tina picks up her coat from the chair, he asks, "Are you gonna be ok?"

"I always am," she answers smartly, giving him a two-fingered salute. They nod understandingly and grimace at each other.

Dean answers the phone. "How we looking?"

"Not great," Sam answers. "Turns out J.P. was about three days from getting evicted. His landlord said the guy blasted Neil Diamond 24-7 and that his bathroom was like, quote, staring into the devil's butt."

"That's .. heaven," Dean musters up a weak rejoinder.

"And .. I saw it."

"The john or uh.."

"Don't", Sam cut across Dean's comment. "So you got anything?"

"Yeah, got uh, jack with two scoops of squat." Dean looks across the room at Tina as she leaves the bar. "I don't know man, I think we oughta just call it a night and uh..." Dean watches as the large man in a newsboys hat and black coat follows Tina outside. Something about the man's movement catches his attention.

"Dean, hello?"

Dean followed the man's movement through the windows of the bar. "Sammy I think I got something." He got up, hanging up abruptly. He walked out the door of the bar and turned left, following a grass path through tall bushes running along the side of the building. "Tina?" he called out loudly.

A scream echoes in the dingy grass-strip parking lot in front of Dean. A flash of light and a shushurration makes him blink, confused for a moment. He reaches back and draws his gun, walking forward more cautiously. Next to the dumpster behind the bar, a pile of clothes lies on the grass, steam rising from them. He crouches down and gingerly lifts the top piece of cloth. It's Tina's jean jacket.

Behind Dean, the large man with a newsboy cap approaches silently. The man steps down, his foot making a noise as it comes down. Dean spins around. The large man's meaty hand touches a hex bag hanging on his chest. A bright light explodes from Dean.

**A Basement**

Dean wakes up panting. He is in a basement. "What the hell?" he mutters in a light voice. He touches the wall, then tests the bars in front of the window, surveying the room. He is in oversized sweats. He looked at his arm and hand. Something is wrong. Dean walked over to wipe at a cracked mirror in the room. "Son of a bitch!" The face that looked back at him was the face and body of a young teenager.

Staring at himself Dean muttered, "Seriously?" After every crazy thing that had happened in the past ten years.

A quiet voice calls out, "Hey."

Dean looks cautiously through a broken piece of the wall separating the rooms. He can see the other prisoner's eyes.

"What's your name?" she asks quietly.

Closer to the hole, Dean can see the young teenager's face. "Dean," he replies.

"Dean! Is that you? It's me Tina." she says urgently.

"What?"

"Please tell me you know what the hell is going on?" she says in a shaky voice.

"I'm not sure yet," Dean mumbles.

"Because I left the bar and then there was a white.."

"Light, a bright light," Dean interrupts.

"Yes! a white light. And then I was here, and I thought this is a nightmare but ... oh god if you're here. It can't be real. This doesn't..."

"I know, just try to stay calm." Dean interrupts.

"Stay calm! I'm a friggin tween and you look like some one-direction reject and we're in some freaky serial killer basement. I can't..."

"Tina, Tina, just. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. Ok?" Dean corrects himself, "Anything else happen to you."

"This is crazy. How are you so calm?" Tina asks.

Hah. Dean says, "Practice. Who's your friend?"

Tina turns around. Behind her is a kid with a mop of black hair and jeans, sitting on a cot. "Not sure, he doesn't talk."

Dean says in a hesitant voice, "J.P.?" The kid with black hair looks up, but they are interrupted by the sounds of a lock clanking and heavy footsteps going down hollow stairs. The three kids freeze as the large man approaches, then unlocks Tina's cell. The man grabs J.P.'s arm. "Nooo!," J.P. screams. Tina runs up and pushes at the man, but the man gives her a rough shove and she falls backwards onto the floor. "It's freaking America, you can't do this!" J.P. cries as the man drags him up stumbling up the stairs.

**A Bar**

Sam strides into the dingy bar, still in his cheap, pretend F.B.I suit. He dials Dean on his cellphone.

**A Basement**

The large man returns to Dean's cell, sliding a covered plate underneath the cell door. It's a slice of cake with thick pink frosting.

**A Bar**

"Hey buddy, where'd that jacket come from?" Sam asks the bartender.

"My bar mitzvah, it was a magical night." The bartender turns his back to Sam.

Sam grabs the bartender from behind and slams his head onto the counter. "Why don't you try that again?" Sam says in a husky voice, his hand gripping the bartender's head.

"Dumpster," the bartender says gasping a little. "Found it by the dumpster", he jerks his head, trying to shake Sam off.

"Alright." Sam says softly. He suddenly releases the bartender and grabs Dean's jacket, then strides off quickly before the bartender can recover.

**A Basement**

Dean shovels cake into his mouth with his fingers, smacking appreciatively as he gobbles.

In the other room, Tina stands, staring at the slice of cake. "They probably poisoned it."

Dean freezes. A look of concern appears on his expressive face. "Right, obviously." He sets the plate down on the floor. Two-thirds of the cake is left.

"What do you think they're doing to J.P.?"

"Nothing good," Dean answers. He glances over the wall while patting it, testing what he can move. Through the gap in the wall, Tina watches as Dean reconnoiters the room. Dean tests the metals bars on the old-style bed frame. With his scrawny arms unable to pull the bar out, he stands sideways and uses his leg strength to knock off the bar on the bedframe with a few kicks.

"What are you doing?" Tina asks.

Dean picks up the bar. "Getting us out of here." He pulls the bed over to the window. Standing on top of the bedframe, he starts to work at the bars on the window, digging into the crumbly old windowsill.

"You know before, I thought you were just another drunk." Tina says, watching Dean work competently.

"I prefer functional alcoholic," Dean retorts as he stabs at the windowsill.

"Seriously, who .. what are you?" Tina asks, impressed.

"That is a long-ass story." Dean says.

**Outside a Bar**

Sam drops Dean's jacket on the ground as he pulls out a flashlight. Approaching the dumpsters cautiously, he scans the area with his flashlight. Underneath, he spots shoes. Dean's boots, and Dean's .45 Colt. Sam brushes at it. A yellow powder flakes off the handle of the gun, and he bring his hand up to his nose and sniffs.

**A Basement**

Grunting, Dean hacks at the windowsill, then puts down the piece of bedframe. He grabs one bar of the window and pulls. It comes out suddenly with a snapping noise. "Yes, let's see," Dean whispers to himself, as he swings open the latch on the window.

A clank sounds at the door. The large man's footsteps begin to descend the hollow wood plank stairway to the basement.

"Get out." Tina says flatly and urgently.

"What?" Dean answers idiotically, in a dazed voice.

"Hurry, I'll keep him busy," Tina says.

"Screw that, you're coming with me." Dean giggles happily and jumps down off the bed and runs to the gap in the wall to speak to Tina.

"There's no time for that, go!" Tina tries to speak urgently yet quietly to the drinking buddy she had just met. "Get help, I know you will," she encourages him.

The large man's hand is on the lock as Dean and Tina stand there. Tina starts to scream, "Aaaaa, help me please, help me! I'm going to die in here!"

Finally, Dean races up to the window, pushes it open. His slim body wriggles through as Tina continues to scream.

"What are you screaming about?" The man swings open the door as the window closes behind Dean and Dean starts to run, taking one look back.

**A Motel Room**

Sam has his laptop open to a website about Yarrow and transfiguration magic. A loud knock at the door to the motel interrupts his reading.

He gets up warily and bends over to look through the peephole in the door, drawing his gun and keeping his hand behind his back. Sam swings open to the door on the teenager dressed in oversized clothing and a red cap. "Yeah," he says quietly.

"Hiya Sammy." Dean says firmly.

Sam's expression changes. As he looks, he recognizes his brother's younger face, "Dean?"

Dean walks past him into the motel room and starts gathering gear. Sam looks taken aback, then swings the door shut. He stares at Dean with a wide-eyed look of bewildered shock. "Who are .. what .. wait a sec" Sam stammers.

"Bright light, next thing I know I wake up looking like Bieber." Dean answers.

"Why would someone turn you into..."

"Don't know," Dean interrupts. "Don't care. Hey we got any grenades?"

"What? No, wait wait. Wait a second. Talk to me."

"Really Sam, now? I've got no grass on the infield and a girl's gonna die. Sorry if I'm not in a chatty mood. Look, you wanted me back in the game, I'm back in the damn game. Come on." Dean heads out the door.

An older woman with arms full of luggage and bags looks over at the noise, her motel room key slipping out of her hand. With a sigh, Dean says, "Allow me," he walks over, grabs the motel key and hands it back to her, then walks over to the impala. Sam walks out, putting on his jacket as he rushes out the door. The lady says, "Your son is so polite!"

The strangeness of the situation makes Sam's face twitch, "Thanks," he says.

Dean is at the door, impatiently he slaps the roof twice as Sam walks over.

"Where we heading?" Sam asks.

"Tell you on the way." Dean cuts Sam off impatiently.

The get in the car, but Dean is in the driver side.

"Hey hey, maybe I should drive. Yeah, see ... see!" Sam exclaims as Dean struggles to reach. They swap places.

The impala roars down the highway.

"Cake. Why would they give you cake?" Sam asks, his mind focused on the seemingly irrelevant detail.

"Don't know." Dean says curtly. "Wasn't even good cake, too dry."

Sam chuffs a laugh, then glances over repeatedly at Dean's teenaged face. The feeling is surreal.

"What?" Dean asks.

"Nothing," Sam replies. "Okay, not nothing. Look this is bizarre, even for us, Dean. This is insane. You're like like like 14? How does it even feel?"

"Well I'm me. Old me, but a kid, it's freaking weird dude. And there was a taylor swift song on the bus I hopped to the motel, and I liked it Sam! My voice is weird, I have zits, I have zero control over this, I mean it's up it's down it's up for no reason." Dean waves his arms at his lap.

"Ahem," Sam interrupts, waving his hand to forestall Dean from speaking further. "That's called puberty."

"Yeah, it sucks again." Dean says.

"Yeah I checked out the alley where you got jumped and I found yarrow."

"Which means what?" Dean asks.

"It means you're probably dealing with a witch. Yarrow's a flower used in a ton of spells."

"Yeah, still got some witchcraft junk in the trunk?"

"Yeah, why don't we get you changed back then light Sabrina's ass up." Sam says.

Dean doesn't say anything.

"Right?" Sam asks.

"No, Sam. No time. And this whole mess has an upside." Dean draws back the sleeve of his oversized sweatshirt. The mark of cain on his arm is faint, barely visible.

"How?"

"Well I think the spell slammed me back into the body I had when I was 14."

"You didn't have the mark then," Sam continues the reasoning. "It's bleeding from your soul into your body gradually."

"Reverse the spell and,"

"It's gonna come back full force." Sam finishes.

"That's what I'm thinking," Dean says. "So?"

"So you're gonna stay like this?"

"No, no. But if it's between being a psycho rage borderline demon or a teenager ... well."

Teenaged Dean leads the way down a trail through some bushes. Down a short slope, a victorian-style mansion lies in front of them. Lights shine through window curtains.

"Looks like someone's home." Sam says unnecessarily.

"Okay. Let's go in through the basement. Get Tina out first."

**A Basement**

Clank clank clank. The large man walks down the stairs.

Tina shrinks against the brick and mortar wall in the basement. She stares up at the barred, cloudy window with a frightened look on her face.

**Outside the House**

Dean and Sam sneak closer to the basement windows.

**A Basement**

The large man unlocks the door to Tina's room.

**Outside the House**

"Stay alert." Dean opens the window to his cell. "Tina?" he calls out. He doesn't see or hear her through the hole in the wall. "All right, let's go," he says.

Sam gives teenaged Dean a look. "Dean, I'm way too big to fit in that."

"First time you've ever had to say that eh?" Dean smirks.

"Big talk from a dude wearing underroos." Sam snaps back.

Dean jerks and stiffens, but can't think of a good response. "Okay good one. Here why doncha go around back, find another way in."

"Yeah," Sam says as he heads off.

Dean slips back into the basement feet first. The door to his room is open and he cautiously heads out into the rest of the basement, flashlight and gun held out in front with crossed wrists. He sees the door to Tina's room is open and she is gone. Her slice of cake on a plate is smashed and spilled on the floor. Further in her cell, Dean nudges a bucket with his foot, revealing a cobwebbed skull. Carelessly, he crouches and puts down his flashlight to pick up the skull. He stares at it for a moment.

Behind him, the figure of the large man is there. Dean whirls around. The man disappears.

Dean heads out the door cautiously. Suddenly, the large man grabs him from behind. The man's face is heavily scarred on the right side. Dean's weak, teenaged arms and hands can't break the man's hold on his neck. Dean powerless hands scrabble at the man's arms as the scarred man slowly chokes him.

Thunk. The scarred man falls to his knees. Sam's fist and pistol rise up from striking the scarred man's head. Dean stumbles back, grabbing his gun from the floor.

The scarred man sits on his side, reaches back, touching his head. "Don't!" Sam orders in a hoarse voice as the man recovers from the blow.

"Where's the girl?" Dean demands curtly, standing side-by-side with Sam, both of their guns on the man.

"Upstairs, alive." the man replies in a slow, deep voice.

"What did you do with her?" Dean says.

"Nothing. I'm no witch. I just work for one."

"Where is he?" Sam asks.

"She. And she is the worst person in the world." the man replies slowly.

"Is that so?" Dean says.

"I've been serving her for centuries. The things I've seen her do. My sister and I, she made us hurt people. Kill people. And when we tried to escape, she caught us, tortured me," he says, his hand rising to the scarred left side of his face, "And then she made me eat poor Gretel's heart."

Sam looks down at the kneeling man with concern.

"What, witch, Gretel?" Dean snorts. "What are you saying that you're...?"

"Hansel," the man replies. "My name is Hansel."

"Hansel," Sam says, "And then Gretel. Like the fable. The brother's Grimm."

"It wasn't a fable," Hansel says as he gets up. A hex bag hangs on his chest from leather cords. "Based on a true story. They just gave it a happy ending." He puts his newsboy cap back on.

Dean's gun hand drops and wavers as he thinks, then goes back up as he trains the gun on Hansel. "Great we get to barbeque a celebrity."

Hansel shakes his head. "You can't kill her. You're just men."

Dean looks at Sam, carelessly letting his gun drop. Sam steps back and picks up a flask from the ground cautiously. "We're more than that. We're hunters." He shows the home-made magical molotov cocktail to Hansel.

"Ahh." Hansel says. "Then let me help."

"Help? What's in it for you?" Dean asks.

"Because if you're gonna fry that bitch I want in."

"You want to help? Tell me how to turn him back." Sam orders as he raises his gun to the man's chest.

"Sam, we can wait." Dean says.

"Tell me how!" Sam roars.

Hansel licks his lips. "The hex bag that I'm wearing. It will reverse the spell. Squeeze it and you'll return to your proper age."

Dean glances at Sam.

"Look, we waste witch, I give you the cure. Deal?"

**The Kitchen**

Clunk, clunk, clunk, clunk. The woman slices into a pile of white onions, her chef's knife moving smoothly in well-practiced motions. Tina is gagged and loosely tied to a chair behind the witch.

"Your friend J.P. didn't have much meat on his bones, but a good cook works with te ingredients she is given." The woman laughs. She stirs the soup pot with a ladle and takes a slurp. "Wonderful."

Turning around, the witch's face looks plain. Nothing about her is unusual except for her grubby clothing and badly permed hair. "Oh don't worry liebshell, you're too good for soup. I'm thinking a nice sweet chili glaze with a few hours roasting in the oven, and an apple in your mouth." The witch laughs cheerfully, revealing a mouth full of silver teeth.

Tina gazes at the witch passively, supernaturally calm, with a dazed, happy look on her face.

The witch opens the door to a walk-in oven, placing more wood on the fire. She returns to chopping vegetables.

Hansel opens the door into the kitchen. Dean and Sam enter the room behind him.

"Hansel!" the witch says in a slightly puzzled voice. "Well, our lost lamb," the witch smirks, a large chopping knife in her right hand. "I thought we'd have to go looking for you. Maybe even abandon our home sweet home here. I never dreamt you'd be stupid enough to come back on your own. Hansel take care of them."

"Yeah he's not exactly your biggest fan." Dean smirks.

"Maybe you shouldn't have made him chow down on his sister." Sam says, as Hansel moves to stand beside Sam.

Hansel punches Sam in the head. Sam falls. "I never made Hansel do anything," the witch says calmly.

"Dammit!" Dean fumbles with the flask and a lighter.

"They're hunters!" Hansel calls out to the witch as he grabs Sam's pistol.

The witch voices an unintelligible incantation. "Muuumooor." At the word, the flask jumps out of Dean's hands, smashing against a pantry door.

Dean and Sam raise their hands in surrender. Dean kneels down.

"Now who's hungry," the witch smirks.

"Don't move," Hansel orders.

The witch clasps Dean's face in one hand. "So scrawny, we'll have to fatten you up."

"Dont touch me." Dean says.

"I'm gonna do more than that. Oh so sweet and innocent and delicious," she says as she rubs Dean's cheeks. "You'll see."

Hansel laughs a low grunting laugh.

"When I cook him up, I'll give you some," the witch says offhandedly.

"If you like kids so much, why don't you go after kids?" Sam asks. "What's with this whole fountain of youth?"

The witch answers, "In the olden days if a child went missing, blah, the young died all the time. Now though, with your milk cartons and news reports. A person fillets one rug rat and people get so angry."

"Yeah, I blame Obama." Dean says.

Sam gives Dean a look.

"So I improvise, I take adults no one will miss, and I give them back their youth."

"And Kentucky fry em," Dean says.

"It's the only way I can eat in peace." the witch says casually.

Sam's hand sneaks to his back pocket.

"So, is it worth it?" Dean asks, with a quick glance at his brother. "Word on the street is people kinda taste like pork."

"A bit. European children are more free range. Gamier. Americans though, they are heaven. Fattier. The meat so finely marbled, it's succulent. I just can't get enough."

"Mmm awesome." Dean says, giving Hansel and the witch two thumbs up.

"Well I am delighted. This is my first visit to your country and I have to say god bless the USA."

"So you're a tourist." Dean asks.

"No, it's business, not pleasure." The witch replies. "An old friend is causing trouble and the Grand Coven asked me to take care of her. Poor, stupid Rowena."

At the name Rowena, Sam looks over at the witch.

"Wait, Rowena?" Dean asks. "She got red hair? Thing for ritzy hotels?"

Sam slips his blade out of his pocket.

"How do you know that?" the witch asks.

Sam slashes at Hansel's hand, the gun drops. Dean leaps on Hansel, tackling the larger man and bringing them both to the ground.

Sam steps forward and stabs the witch, but she blocks his blow with her fist to his forearm. The knife drops from Sam's nerveless hand. The witch raises her arms and with a flicking motion, Sam flies across the room, smashing into shelves full of cookbooks, then drops onto the ground, dazed.

Casually, Hansel knocks Dean off his back as they lie on the ground. The witch looks on carelessly as Hansel flips Dean over and starts smashing Dean's head on the ground.

The witch opens the door to the oven. "Don't bruise the meat too much," she says with a chuckle.

"Stay down boy," Hansel growls as he releases Dean.

With a dazed look, Dean collapses in a sitting position against some cabinets.

"Turn him," the witch orders Hansel, glancing at Sam.

"Hehehehe," Hansel laughs, reaching for his hex bag. Hansel's white-shirted chest is bare of the hex bag.

Behind him, Dean's sneaky hands are holding the hex bag by the leather cords. Dean grasps the bag and squeezes it. Nothing happens.

Hansel snatches a knife from the counter and slashes Dean's throat in one motion. Blood spurts from the wound as Hansel grabs Dean by the leg, lifting Dean into the air. Hansel bends down and slashes again, opening the wound further as Dean's limbs and head flop.

"What a mess. I clean it up later," Hansel says appeasingly as he hangs Dean up by the legs. Blood splashes onto the tiles of the kitchen floor and counter.

Lying on his side, Sam looks down at the dribbling blood on the floor. Splashes of it have fallen into his open mouth. He rolls onto his stomach and licks at the blood on the floor.

Moving quickly, the witch opens a pantry and drags a metal tub underneath Dean's body.

Pat, pat pat. The blood splatters loudly into the tub in front of Tina's horrified face, the cake-induced spell losing its power.

The witch looks over at Sam, crouching like a dog on his hands and knees, lapping up Dean's blood from the floor. "What is this," she laughs contemptuously.

Sam looks up at the witch's laugh, his chin stained. With a distorted face, Sam grunts and the witch and Hansel fly into the open oven. Sam gets to his feet. He raises an arm, shuddering. The oven door slams shut on the screams of Hansel and the witch.

Dean's demonic black eyes open. Screaming in pain, he crunches up, tearing the hook out of the wall and releasing his foot. Dean's body falls and hits the tub with a clang.

Sam grunts, concentrating on the oven. Dean's blood-covered body flies through the air and slams into the oven door. "Aaaaa!" Dean screams as his back burns, smoke rising from his cotton sweats.

"Tina," Sam grunts.

Tina struggles to loosen herself from the ropes, staring at the scene with wide eyes.

"Handcuffs. In my back pocket." Sam struggles to speak while he holds Dean, the witch, and Hansel. Their yells and screams echo in the too small kitchen.

Shuddering, Tina slips out of the loose ropes, takes off the gag and stumbles to Sam. She slips a slim hand into Sam's back pocked and takes out the engraved handcuffs.

"Put them on Dean," Sam grunts.

Tina hesitates as she approaches Dean, looking back at Sam, then at Dean held against the burning oven, his black eyes.

"Kill Sam," Dean screams, "Kill him Tina."

Tina walks slowly over.

Dean snarls, looking down at her. "I'll kill you," he stars down at Tina.

Tina reaches up and snaps one cuff on Dean's wrist. Dean falls to the floor.

"Duck!" Sam grunts. Tina drops down in a crouch. Books, shelves, chairs, knives, and a table fly in front of the oven door, blocking it and muffling the screams of the witch and Hansel. Sam runs to Dean, grabbing the other cuff and snapping it on Dean's wrist.

**Outside the House**

Smoke rises from the chimney outside of the victorian-style house. "That was crazy, like psycho crazy." Tina says as she presses her back against the side of the impala. "And you do this all the time."

"Not all the time," Sam shakes his head, walking around and slamming the trunk on Dean's handcuffed, tied up, duct-taped body.

"Will Dean be okay?" Tina asks.

"Yeah, yeah, there's a church back in town. He'll be fine once I turn him back into a human."

Muffled yells come from the trunk of the impala, where Dean is locked under the devil's trap spray-painted on the underside of the trunk.

Tina glances away from Sam. Her reflection in the car window is young. "You know," she says thoughtfully, "I got 3 ex-husbands, 50 grand in debt, and not much else. I was kind of a crappy adult. Maybe I'll do better this time around. Get out of town. Get a fresh start. This is my second chance," she pauses.

Sam looks hesitant, "I don't know what spell the witch used. The youth may not be..."

"Everybody wants a second chance right?" She glances furtively at Sam then looks away. Tina's face looks frightened as she turns away from Sam.

Sam hesitates. "Well, at least let me give you a ride."

Tina looks at Sam and nods. Muffled yells come from inside the trunk.

**Parking Lot**

In the morning, Tina and the brothers stand behind the impala, a bus station in the background. Tina is carrying a slim backpack. Dean huddles in his jacket, shoulders hunched against the cold.

"Alright, here you go, this is all the cash we got." Sam says, handing over a thin bunch of bills.

"Thanks for everything," Tina says.

"You stay safe out there, you hear?" Dean says in a calm, even voice. "Call if you run into trouble."

"I will," Tina says. She hesitates, then she walks closer and hugs Dean, kissing him on the cheek. She gives him a long look. "And hey, we'll always have the Royale Motel right?" An adult's knowing expression looks strange on her young face. Tina gives a two-fingered salute to Dean then walks down the road to a bus waiting at the station, loud diesel engine roaring.

Sam gives Dean a questioning look.

The brothers walk away. "So, Grand Coven, any ideas?" Dean asks, ignoring Sam's glance.

"Doesn't sound good," Sam replies.

"Well it sounds like an '80s hair metal band. Lot of hairspray, lot of eye shadow, lot of guitar. No, nothing?" Dean says as Sam remains silent.

"Come on man, I'm painting a word picture here."

"Is it back?" Sam asks.

Dean looks down, pulling up his sleeve. The mark of cain is livid on his pale flesh. He slips the sleeve back down.

"Look man, do I wish the mark was gone? Yes of course, absolutely, but, we're alive. I'll take the win. As for the rest of it, the mark," Sam hesitates, "drinking demon blood, Bieber, everything else, we'll figure it out. We always do."

"Damn right," Dean says. "Let's get out of here."

The brothers get back into the impala. Sam turns the key in the ignition. The radio blares Taylor Swift's Shake it Off as Dean turns up the volume.

Sam makes a face, looking at Dean. Dean looks over and shrugs. Sam pulls out of the parking lot, driving carefully past an elderly couple walking toward the bus station.


	2. Halt and Catch Fire

**Season 10, Episode 13. Halt and Catch Fire.**

**Spencer, Iowa**

A young couple sits high in an oversized pickup truck.

"You sure you ok to drive?" the young woman asks, as the pick-up hurtles down a dark, rainy highway.

"Not really," the boy replies. "But there's nothing a little grease can't fix," he smirks nastily.

"Trinie, find me the nearest Taco Town."

"Searching," an iphone holstered on the dashboard replies.

"You know I'm gonna get a quesadilla and a chichimelt," the woman says.

"Turn right in 50 feet," the flat voice of the phone's GPS says.

The car turns right. "Really, I don't think this is the way to Taco Town," the woman says dismissively.

"What do you know?" the man sneers. "The phone's 3G. Trinie doesn't make mistakes."

"Continue for point three miles. Then turn left," the GPS speaks in a flat voice.

"Phhh." The woman sighs. "It's freezing, can you please turn off the air?"

"It's not on." the man says with a puzzled tone.

The car cruises to a stop in front of a closed off bridge. Danger: Bridge Out. "What the hell?" the man mutters.

"Trinie doesn't make mistakes huh?" the woman says wryly.

"Trinie, find a different route," the man says, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.

"Proceed ahead," the flat voice of the GPS speaks.

"Go screw yourself," the man says pointlessly.

"You go screw yourself," the phone replies suddenly, with emotion.

The couple stares at each other.

"Janet, get out of the truck," the phone says. Janet stares at the phone with the whites of her eyes showing.

"Um, how does she know my name?" the woman asks.

"Janet, get out of the truck now!" the phone commands in a hoarse voice.

Breathing hard, Janet unbuckles her seatbelt and leaps out of the pickup. On the driver side, the lock snaps shut as the man takes off his seatbelt and pulls on the door handle. He leans over to crawl to the passenger seat. Suddenly, the door slams. The accelerator moves down and the truck speeds forward.

"Wait, no!" the man inside screams, grabbing at the wheel and slamming on the brakes. The pickup continues to speed ahead.

"Aaaa!" Janet screams as she watches the pickup crash through the Danger: Bridge Out sign. "Billy!"

"Destination ahead," the flat voice of the GPS says.

**Bunker:**

The teenaged Dean's slim form walks upstairs jauntily, eating a giant bite of chocolate-striped croissant. "Hey, what in the world?" Sam asks, as he walks down the stairs from the entrance of the bunker, staring at Dean's confection.

"A crossookie," Dean says, slipping his hand into Sam's jacket. "What's this?" he stares up at Sam, his hand holding a flask.

"It's for emergencies. It's full. A croussookie?" Sam asks, determined to change the subject.

"Yeah, they're for kids." Dean smirks up at Sam.

"Yeah so what, half cookie, half..."

"Who gives a crap," Dean interrupts rudely. "They're freakin awesome."

"Hah," Sam chuckles.

"What did Cass say?"

"Uh, good news, bad news. Bad news, he discovered riverboat gambling. Good news, he thinks he might be closing in on Cain." Sam sets his bag down on his worktable and leans on the edge of the table. "I picked up the bones. Once the other seller on ebay finally ships us the package..."

Dean springs up and sits on top of his table, "Oh wow, thinks he might be," Dean interrupts again, licking the powdered sugar off his fingers.

Sam nods, returning to the previous topic.

"Yeah, just he thinks in Mississipee or Illinois."

"So, maybe Cass finds Cain in the land of Lincoln, and then what?" Dean asks, bringing a mug up to his lips.

"And then we get him to tell us how to get rid of the mark." Sam explains patiently.

"Don't you think that if Cain knew how to remove the mark, he would have done it?" Dean says quizzically. "Like centuries ago."

"We won't know til we try," Sam replies.

"Sammy, I appreciate the effort. I really do. But trying to find a cure for this is like a dog chasing its tail. There's no way in sight and you just end up busy."

"Dean, where there's a will..."

"There is a case," Dean interrupts again, smirking. "Hmm? Check this out," he says, turning around and showing Sam an article pulled up on his ipad. "Iowa teen claims possessed pickup kills driver. What say we take our own trek to the midwest."

Sam nods, acquiesing.

**Spencer, Iowa**

The impala pulls into the parking lot of Kasen College. Behind them, a tall building with glass walls and college students walking around. The day is pale, clear, and cold. Sam and Dean get out of the car. Dean is dressed in a hoodie and jeans and Sam is in his fake FBI blue suit, with a light winter coat over the top.

"Sorry I ever made you leave," Dean says as they walk past two happy, chattering students.

Sam snorts and glances down at Dean.

Inside the atrium of a college building, Sam and Dean look oddly out of place. The young woman from before, Janet, walks down the stair with a friend. "Hey, which one of you is Janet Novocellik?" Dean says, walking up to the two young women.

"I am," Janet says.

"Hey, well I'm writing an article for Spencer High Reporter," Dean asks. "You mind, I gotta finish this assignment by Friday. You know how it is," he tosses his head at the woman.

The two girls glance at each other and Janet's friend walks on while Janet stops. "I already talked to the police like 9 times," Janet says, shaking her head.

"Yeah, we'll make it fast." Dean lies smoothly. "This is my dad, Sam."

Sam gives Dean a look.

"We'll make it fast." Sam says. "I promise. I'm helping him with his report since he's struggling a bit with his assignments."

Janet looks resigned.

**A study area in a library**

"So like I told the detective, I was drunk, but I wasn't hallucinating. The truck had a mind of its own."

"How so?" Dean asks.

"Like, the air went full blast even though it wasn't on and the radio went crazy, and so did Trinie." Janet finishes talking as Deans eyes wander lasciviously over the bodies of the female college students nearby.

"And Trinie is?" Dean asks.

"Heh", Sam laughs. "You'll have to excuse my son. When it comes to technology he's a little slow. We homeschooled and didn't want to let him watch .. inappropriate material."

Dean glares at Sam.

"I, um," Janet fumbles for words. "Trinie is the nav app we're using. It, it's like a talking map."

Dean looks at Janet, "So Trinie and everything else in the truck went all Christine?" Dean asks.

"Who's Christine?" Janet asks, missing the reference to the Stephen King horror novel about possessed cars.

Dean glances at Sam. Sam smirks back.

"It's my dad's thing. He made me read lots of old books," Dean answers with a quirky look at Sam.

"Look, I don't expect you to believe me," Janet answers sharply, "But I swear that truck was hell bent on killing Billy."

"Did Billy have any enemies?" Sam asks in a calm, inquisitive voice. "Anybody who might have a problem with him, now or in the past?"

"Maybe his brother Joey, they fought all the time. It's so sad. They never got to set it right."

"Because Billy died." Dean suggests.

"No, Joey did. Afghanistan," Janet replies.

"Do you know where he's buried?" Sam asks.

"He's not. Body never came home." Janet says, her voice breaking a little bit. "IED."

"Did Billy happen to have any of his brother's belongings when he died? Dogtags, a hat, something?" Dean asks.

"Just his pickup," Janet answers.

"So the truck belonged to Joey," Sam asks.

"Yeah, it was his pride and joy," Janet say smiling. "Billy got it when he died and you know. It's a thing."

"Yeah," Dean nods.

Janet's cell phone rings. "Excuse me," she says, picking it up and leaving the chair to answer her phone.

"So what's a thing?" Sam asks Dean, as the brothers stand up.

"You know the truck thing," Dean says, waving his hand. "You honor the deceased by driving their truck. Sam, they wrote whole country songs about it. Why don't you google it," Dean snarks pettily.

**Night**

Dressed in his hoodie and jeans, Dean struggles to snip the chain on the gate in a chain-link fence. Finally, he shoves the gate open with a clatter, grunting as he pushes with both hands. Sam follows behind with a flashlight.

"Alright," Dean says. "So we're looking for something that used to resemble a pick-up truck."

The brothers walk casually through the junkyard, Dean in the lead.

"Here we go," Dean says, looking at a large extended cab pickup. He raises his light voice to carry over the loud honks and traffic noises. The junkyard is near a freeway.

The brothers approach the pickup. The front end of the truck is smashed. Dean shines his flashlight on the license plate, which reads SEMPERFI. "Yeah, marine," he says, referring to the motto of the U.S. Marine Corps, Always Faithful.

"I'm guessing this ain't oil," Sam says in a loud, deep voice, speaking over the traffic noise. His flashlight shines through the broken window of the cab. Grey mud-like goop covers the driver's seat.

"That .. is ectoplasm," Dean says.

"Huh," Sam snorts loudly. "Look at this." Sam holds up an EMF reader, flashing red. "Joey?"

"Looks like," Dean says. "Alright, so big brother didn't get along with little brother. Was pissed that he was driving his baby. I get it," Dean says, making up an explanation.

"Are you saying if you died and I drove your car, you'd kill me?"

Dean looks at Sam, putting on a face. "If you stunk her up with taquitos, probably," Dean's face breaks into a smile.

Sam grimaces back at his young, older brother.

"Alright, let's see." Dean carelessly drops his bag on the bare, wet ground. He throws salt into the truck while Sam sloshes gasoline over the truck. Dean lights a book of matches, tossing it into the cab. The pickup catches fire. The brothers stand side-by-side, watching the pickup burn.

**A Bedroom**

A young, brown-haired woman turns off the tv news report. "Ugh, I can't believe our art history final is tomorrow," she says to her roommate.

"I know, this semester totally flew by," the roommate says in a shrill voice.

"Yeah, " Delilah says, rummaging in her backpack. "Time flies when you're drunk." The two young women look at each other and laugh.

"Wanna come to the library with me?" Delilah asks. "Still have so much to memorize. I thought looking at pictures of naked guys was going to be easy."

"Thanks but I don't really need to study for it. I have a photographic memory. Hashtag blessed," the roommate kids Delilah.

"Um, you don't need to study for it because you're screwing the TA," Janet says, as she leaves. "Hashtag slut," Janet says.

The roommate laughs. She sits down at her desk, picking up her phone. She makes a face, holds the phone out and takes a selfie. The open laptop blips. A chat from PrincessElsa8 pops up on the screen.

The roommate types: who are you?

PrincessElsa8: a friend

Roommate: #curious. what's up friend?

PrincessElsa8: nm, liar

Roommate: #confused, what did i lie about?

PrincessElsa8: 810

The roommate gasps.

PrincessElsa8: I know.

PrincessElsa8: you'll pay.

The roommate closes the conversation window.

The laptop pops up another chat from PrincessElsa8: 810

The roommate quickly closes the chat and turns off the laptop. The laptop screen starts to shut down, but then returns to a pink Kappa Delta Lamba sorority desktop.

Another chat from PrincessElsa8: 810

The roommate closes the chat and quickly closes the laptop cover, backing away from the desk.

The laptop cover flips back up. The screen flashes again.

PrincessElsa8: 810

The roommate's breath frosts in the ghostly cold air.

The laptop screen goes black: 810 .. 810

The roommate darts forward, closing the laptop again. She pauses, then turns and runs to the door. In front of her, it swings shut. She grabs the door handle, squeezing the knob, but it will not open.

Behind her, a powercord floats up. Suddenly, it snakes around her neck. Screaming, the roommate grabs at the cord, her fingers unable to get a grip between the cord and her throat. Her scream turns into a gasp as the cord tightens. She staggers and slowly half falls, half sits down on the floor. Long minutes pass as she gasps silently. Finally, she drops to the floor.

**Outside Kappa Delta Lamba House**

"I'll hang out here," Dean mutters. "Just keep your cell phone on." He turns back away from the house as Sam walks up the steps.

Sam strides into the house, ducking under police tape. A woman dressed in business clothing with a badge hanging at her neck walks in front of them. "Delilah Marian, the roommate. Found her this morning after an all-nighter at the library."

"Strangulation?" Sam asks.

"Sicko used the power cord from the computer." The woman responds.

"Any suspects?" Sam asks.

"None yet," the woman replies. "The odd thing was the door was locked."

"Huh," Sam grunts. "Have you talked to any of the other girls that lived here?"

"Well, most of them have already left for spring break. But the roommate was really helpful. She gave us all of Julie's passwords that she knew. And nowadays, the only way to find out anything about teenagers is through social media."

Sam smiles.

"Trust me, I've got two of em," the woman continues. Behind Sam, an officer in an FBI jacket looks at the woman. "Excuse me, agent," she says, gesturing at the FBI officer and walking towards him.

"Vengeful spirit much," Dean comments through the phone.

"Shh. Keep it down. Joey's or another ghosts?" Sam asks and he switches the phone off speaker and raises it to his ear.

"I don't know." Sam sweeps through the room casually, EMF reader held at his side. Red lights blink and the EMF read whines as Sam passes it by the laptop. Sam turns the phone so Dean can see the laptop.

"So first it possesses a truck, and then it possesses a computer? Both machine related kills." Dean comments.

"So what .. you think we're dealing with a ghost in a machine?" Sam asks.

"Maybe," Dean mutters. "If it is the same ghost. They usually anchor themselves to a place or a thing. How is this one jumping from one machine to the next?"

Sam glances around to see if anyone is watching, then picks up the laptop, slipping it under his coat.

**On the Porch of Kappa Delta Lamba House**

"Well I really appreciate your help Delilah. I know this can't possibly be easy. Did Julie by chance know a student named Billy Bass?" Sam asks calmly.

"Everyone knew Billy. He's the president of Sigma Theta Delta."

"STD?" Dean mumbles with a smirk, his ear to his cell phone, standing behind the corner of the house.

"What's that?" Sam asks politely.

"It's the biggest frat on campus," Delilah replies.

"Did she have any enemies? Any reason someone might want to hurt her?" Sam asks.

Delilah looks thoughtful. "No. Julie's really popular. Super sweet. I can't imagine anyone wanting to hurt her."

Delilah looks away from Sam, at the gray sky and the trees past the house. Her face scrunches up in suppressed emotion.

**Cafeteria**

Dean slides a heaping tray of food past the cashier. He walks over to Sam, who is sitting at a small table with Julie's pink laptop open in front of him.

"A cafe au lait for the lady," Dean says, putting a cup in front of Sam.

"And a heart attack for you." Sam says, waving his hand at the overfull tray.

"Heh, heh," Dean laughs. "This is unreal! Look at this, I got Italian, I got Chinese, serve yourself fro-yo!" Dean exclaims with childish greed.

Sam looks on, slightly puzzled and concerned.

"It's better than Vegas."

Sam winces, thinking that Dean would be even more embarrassing if he acted like this in his adult body.

"What do you got?" Dean asks as he digs into the food.

"Unfortunately, I got a lot of nothing. I..." Sam pauses, looking at the mass of noodles protruding from Dean's mouth. "I hit up Julie's facebook, instagram, twitter, instachat, snapchat, AIM. Nothing but posts on Rush and 50 Shades of Gray the movie."

"Yeah I didn't get half of that," Dean says.

"Heh, it doesn't matter." Sam says. "Now I'm going through her deleted files."

"You can do that?" Dean asks.

"Yeah," Sam nods slightly.

"Huh," Dean says as he shovels more noodles into his gaping mouth.

"I mean nothing ever really gets deleted, you know that." Sam says. He looks at Dean's wincing face. "You knew that right?" Sam sighs.

"Alright. Here we go."

PrincessElsa8's chat pops up on the screen.

"A deleted instachat from right around the time of death last night." Sam tells Dean.

"From who?" Dean asks.

"With PrincessElsa8." Sam says, taking the laptop and turning it around so Dean sees the screen.

"Liar, I know, you'll pay?" Dean says, reading bits of the text from the screen. "Well PrincessElsa's some bitch. What's 810?"

Sam spins the laptop around to look at the screen. "I dunno, it's ..." Sam types on the laptop.

"Maybe it's a time of day, or an area code," Dean waves a hand holding a half-eaten slice of pizza that looks as stiff as cardboard.

"Uh, area code is for southeast Michigan," Sam replies. "You know what, here we go. There are three addresses in Spencer that have 810 in them."

Dean nods and stabs a plastic fork into the pile of food. "I'll see if i can get this to go."

Sam sighs and shuts the laptop.

**810 Downs Drive**

The impala pulls up to a mansion behind neatly trimmed hedges. Sam parks the car and dials a number on his cell phone.

"Yeah, I got it. Thank you for taking the time. We'll keep in touch." Sam pulls the cell phone away from his ear and turns to Dean, "So PrincessElsa8 is not some crazed cyberkiller. She is a third grader from Lake Nicaboyne Wisconsin who is obsessed with Frozen. She was fast asleep when the instachat occurred."

"So, what a hack job," Dean asks.

"Or something," Sam says.

The brothers watch as a woman leaves the front door of the mansion. The woman walks carelessly down the middle of the quiet street, a black garbage bag held in one hand.

The brother gets out of the car and follow her, twenty feet back, making no effort to hide.

At a power pole a short distance away, the woman stops and crouches. A pile of memorial flowers lie at the base of pole. She starts picking them up and putting them into the trashbag.

Sam flicks his hand at Dean as they get close. "Excuse me ma'am," Sam says in a calm, polite voice, pausing to pat Dean awkwardly on the head. "My son and I are new in town. We're just uh .. taking a walk here. May we ask what you're doing?"

"Um, throwing away dead flowers," the woman says, taken aback. She gets up to her feet. "Is that a crime?" she says defensively.

"Well, it's not a crime, just a little strange." Dean says snarkily. "Seeing as how they aren't dead,"

"Hah. It's not so strange if they feel like they're taunting you," the woman shifts on her feet. "My husband was killed here in a car accident 9 months ago."

"Sorry to hear that," Sam interjects quickly.

"Our condolences." Dean says almost at the same time.

"Thank you. We were newlyweds. Never even got to our first anniversary. And to have to be reminded of that every time I look out my window or leave the house..." The woman does not continue.

"Understandable," Dean says, his mature way of speaking sounds strange coming from his teenaged body.

"Excuse me, but did you notice anything weird after your husband's death. Any strange disturbances or ..." Sam trails off.

"I'm not sure what you mean." the woman responds evenly.

"Any cold spots, or sudden chills," Dean jumps in.

"No, nothing, nevermind." Sam speaks over Dean.

The conversation pauses for a moment.

"Any idea who's leaving the flowers?" Dean asks.

"Some teenaged girl," the woman replies. "I think she goes to the college cuz she's always in greek letters."

"Do you know her name?" Sam asks.

"No. Ah, she has long red hair."

**Kasen College Campus**

"This is Agent Grohl again, please give me a call as soon as you can. Thanks." Sam hangs up the phone. Dean munches his way through a pile of french fries.

"Look at this. Andrew Silver 29-year old Spencer High School teacher killed in fatal accident. Uh, car burst into flames, Silver's body was burned beyond recognition, and he is believes to have been killed upon impact."

Dean dips a fry in mayonnaise, then ketchup, and shoves the gob of condiments into his mouth. "So, Andy the angry ghost, he dies at 810 Downs Drive and then he torments Julie with her computer. So what's his beef with her?"

"What's the connection to Billy?" Sam asks.

"Does it say where he's buried?" Dean asks.

"He wasn't, he was cremated." Sam replies.

"So no bones, and he's not tethered to any object that we know of." Dean says.

"How's Andrew hunting his victims?" Sam shakes his head a little.

Dean puts down a shake, while still munching in a fry.

"You gonna eat all that?" Sams says disapprovingly.

"What you want some?" Dean asks.

**A bedroom**

A young man lies on his bed, flicking through profile photos on a dating app.

"Feds called, like three times already," the red-haired woman's voice is shaky. "Kyle! Are you listening to me?" It's Delilah. "I think they know." She paces the room near Kyle's bed. "Maybe it's time we should come clean."

Kyle looks up from his cell phone. "Uh, that's not going to happen," he says casually in a quiet voice.

"Look where keeping our mouths shut got us!" she says loudly, in an urgent voice. "I think it's karma. Maybe we're being cursed or something, I don't know. First Billy, now Julie?"

"Look, it totally sucks that Billy and Julie died. But it's just a crappy coincidence, not a curse."

"If we don't do something. I'm worried." Delilah says.

Kyle gets off his bed. "Delilah," he calls out, raising his voice. "Stop. I'm serious. You better keep your mouth shut or you're gonna have a lot more than a curse to worry about." He looks directly into Delilah's eyes, challenging her.

Delilah backs down, turns away and leaves the room, carrying her jacket in her hand.

Kyle sits back down on the bed, looking at his phone. A chat request pops up from QTPIE.

QTPIE: I'm bored, wanna hook up?

Kyle: Hells yeah! Come over. STD.

QTPIE: Guess we're using condoms. LOL.

Kyle: Don't worry. I'm clean. But hope we can get dirty. Where r u?

A knock at the door draws Kyle's attention. He opens the door. Outside, the hallway is empty. Muffled heavy metal music is audible in the background. A fat frat brother walks by in a towel. "Was that you?" Kyle asks randomly.

"Nah," the guy looks over, then keeps walking.

Kyle walks back inside. The door slams shut behind him. Kyle whirls around. His cell phone rings and he glances down then answers.

"Hello?" he asks in a hesitant voice.

"What time is this?" a man's voice yells through the cell phone.

8:10 shows on Kyle's radio clock from across the room. Suddenly, the music gets louder. The dials on the stereo turn. Two tall towers of speakers throb. Kyle covers his ears.

**Outside Kyle's Room**

The fat frat brother runs back in a funny crouch, his hands over his ears. "Hey, hey! Lower the tunes!" he shouts, his voice barely audible.

**Kyle's Room**

Kyle screams, blood running from his nose. His breath frosts and blood trickles from his eyes. The window explodes inwards and Kyle falls backwards. His scream can't be heard above the music.

**Delilah's Room**

"You okay?" Sam asks, dressed casually in jeans and his usual jacket.

Delilah whimpers, "Not really."

The door clicks open and Dean walks in.

"Hey," Sam stands up.

"Yeah, death by decibel." Dean says.

"What?"

"Kyle's brains were jellied by his speakers. Oh and get this, the clock on the stereo stopped at 8:10."

"8:10?" Sam asks.

"Yeah," Dean replies curtly.

"Again." Sam finishes.

"Mm hmm." Dean replies. He looks down at Delilah.

"Look we know you're the one leaving the flowers, so why don't you just tell us what happened the night of Andrew Silvers' accident." Dean leans over the girl, speaking loudly and threateningly.

"Uh..." Delilah looks distressed.

"Delilah please," Sam says more quietly. "This is the third death in five days. Who knows who's going to be next," Sam pleads urgently.

"I am," Delilah whimpers in a quiet voice. "The car accident wasn't exactly an accident." She tells her story.

**Flashback:**

An extended cab pickup barrels down a dark road, streetlights flashing by too fast.

Hozier's Take me to Church plays quietly in the. Two young men sit in the front seats, phones held out to each other. "Dude I just retweeted your tweet."

"Just favorited yours," his friend replies.

"Hey here, selfie," Delilah and Julie are in the back seat. Julie holds out her phone and they make faces into the camera. "OMG I'm such a hag, I look like I'm 25," Julie exaggerates.

"That's what filters are for," Delilah says.

"Uh ewww, delete," Julie says in a fake artifical voice.

"Check this ... wait, I'm sending it to you dude," Billy's voice comes from the front of the car. He veers into the other lane. An oncoming car honks desperately.

Both cars swerve. The other car smashes into the power pole head first. The truck skids to a stop on the street.

"Oh my god Billy!" Delilah looks over her shoulder at the wreck. "Call 911! Call 911!"

Delilah's friends don't respond.

Suddenly, a powerline drops down onto the passenger car. The kids scream as the passenger car catches fire.

The man inside struggles confusedly with the door and his seatbelt.

Billy guns the engine of his SUV and they race away as the car behind them bursts into flames.

"What the hell are you doing?" Delilah asks disbelievingly.

"I'm getting out of here before the cops come," Billy replies in a tight voice.

The girl gasps. "We just killed that guy." Delilah dials her phone.

"Hey you're not calling the cops!" Billy orders. "Cause I already have a DUI and if they find out I'm driving on a suspended license I'm going to jail."

Kyle reaches back and puts his hand over Delilah's phone, holding it.

"Come on Billy! This isn't right. Help me out here guys!"

"It's not our problem D," Julie gasps.

"What?" Delilah says in an upset voice.

"Somebody else will call the cops," Julie says in a small voice.

"Not a word, you hear me?" Billy says.

**Delilah's Room**

"I shouldn't have let them talk me out of it," Delilah says. "It was wrong. And now we're being punished. Seriously, what are the chances that three out of the four of us die in one week. It can't be a coincidence."

"It's not a coincidence," Sam says in a rough voice. "It's a ghost."

"It's the vengeful spirit of Andrew Silver." Dean says.

"A ghost?" Delilah says, her voice rising.

"Yeah, they're real," Sam says.

"It's sort of what we do," Dean explains.

"So, you're like .. ghostbusters?" Delilah asks.

"Sure. First things first though. You need to stay inside this salt circle." Dean speaks quickly, as he lays down a line of salt around Delilah, "While we take care of him, ok?"

"How do you take care of him?" Delilah asks in a wavering voice?

"Please tell me you know how to take care of him."

"Usually a ghost is tied to a place or an object." Sam explains. "You get rid of the object, you get rid of the ghost. But with Andrew it's uh, different."

"What's he tied to?" Delilah asks.

"We're working on it," Dean says unreassuringly.

"But, if we can figure out how he's traveling, we can figure out how to stop him." Sam says.

"You know this might be a shocker situation. The paper said he died from a collision, but Delilah says he died from electrocution, so maybe that's how he's surfing. He's using the power lines as a conduit." Dean says.

"That would make sense with the computer and stereo kills but not the pickup. I mean the truck runs on gas." Sam says.

"Alright, it's got to be something else then." Dean responds.

"Alright, I'll go back to the accident site and check it out. Stay here and take care of her." Sam says.

Dean locks the door behind Sam, then takes out an iron crowbar. He sits on the bed near Delilah and hands her a box of tissues. As soon as she takes one, he restlessly tosses the box onto the bed behind him. He quickly jumps up and paces the room with youthful energy. "You getting tired?" Dean asks her.

"No, I'm used to it. Stay up all night studying. The nightmares. My mom is thrilled with my GPA but I just... I struggle. I think about Andrew all the time. I've never even met the guy."

**810 Downs Drive**

Sam walks down the middle of the quiet, residential street. He shines a flashlight up at the powerlines. An overly bright green light blinks on an electrical box near the top of the pole. A similar box with a flashing green light is attached partway up a lattice tower.

**Delilah's Room**

"It's pretty crazy to obsess about somebody you've never met." Delilah says.

"It's not that crazy," Dean says. "Truth is, I can relate."

"Really?" Delilah asks in a small voice.

"I have made more mistakes than I can count." A thin smile crosses Dean's young, handsome face. "Ones that haunt me day and night."

"So, how do you deal?"

"Whiskey." Dean half laughs as he gives his dysfunctional reply.

Delilah looks at Dean.

"Denial." Dean pauses and looks at Delilah. "I do my best to make things right. Whatever that may be."

Delilah nods a tiny nod.

"For you maybe it's coming clean. You know, finding a way to ask for forgiveness. But not breaking the bank at your local florist. Real forgiveness. You can't just buy or bury stuff like this. You gotta deal with it."

Dean's cell phone rings. He gets up and paces as he takes it out, glancing at the screen. "Hey what you got?"

Sam's breath is frosty in the night air. "Dean, Andrew's not using power lines to move. He's using the wifi."

"Come again?" Dean asks.

"The wires that electrocuted Andew. They ... they feed directly into a wifi tower right across the street."

"So even ghosts are online?" Dean says exasperatedly.

"Apparently. I mean it would explain the truck kill. And Billy cell must have been using a local wifi signal. So uh Andrew's ghost must have just hopped onto Trinie. That ... that nav app." Sam says.

"And then Julie's death by computer. Kyle's death by stereo with the wireless speakers." Dean fills in.

"I mean it makes sense, Dean." Sam says. "We're all just a bunch of electrical impulses right? So whenever Andrew died, his impulses just transferred to another current. You gotta get Delilah somewhere safe. Turn off all the routers in that sorority."

"Oh yeah, sure Sammy, we'll just kill the internet. Wait can we?"

"No, no, well not really." Sam replies.

"Huh. Alright so how the hell can we deal with lawnmower man?" Dean says.

"You know what, I have an idea." Sam replies. "Do what I said. Stay safe. I'll call you back." Sam hangs up.

Dean turns to Delilah. "You know where the routers are?"

"I have no idea," Delilah shakes her head.

The lights in the room flicker. Dean's breath comes out white in the suddenly cold air.

An angry face appears in the laptop screen.

"Aaaa!" Delilah screams.

Dean smashes the screen with his iron crowbar.

"Does that even work?" Delilah asks nonsensically.

"Worth a shot," Dean says, smashing the screen on another laptop. He grabs Delilah's phone and throws it outside the salt circle, hitting it with the crowbar.

**810 Downs Drive**

Sam knocks on the door to the mansion. Andrew's wife opens the door.

"I'm so sorry to bother you, Mrs. Silverman, but I have an emergency and I really need your help. This is going to sound strange."

Mrs. Silverman makes a face. "It's my husband isn't it. Come in. She swings the door open wide. Sam steps inside.

**Delilah's Room**

"Where are we going?" Delilah asks in a frightened voice.

"To a place there isn't a wifi signal." Dean shouts back, striding out of the room.

"The basement! The reception sucks there!" Delilah runs ahead of Dean, heading down the stairs. The two of them race down the stairs.

Dean shuts the door to the basement. He shakes salt out in a line at the door and the window.

"I thought the salt didn't work!?" Delilah asks.

"There's no wifi here. Can't bypass it.

**Mrs. Silverman's Home**

Sam and Mrs. Silverman stand in front of a computer in a study. "It wasn't too long after the accident that Andrew started contacting me."

"Contacting you how?" Sam asks.

"Online. At first I thought it was just a joke. Someone was playing a cruel prank on me. But Andrew knew things. Things that only he and I would know. Inside jokes. The code to our alarm. My obsession with lifetime movies. It was then that I knew I had my husband back, even just in spirit."

"Did you never think to ask him what he was?" Sam questions Mrs. Silver.

"I've read books and seen movies. I knew that he's a ghost or something, but I didn't care." She sits down on a sofa, kitty-corner with Sam. "He's my husband. And, it's romantic even. He'd send me love notes. Stay up all night reminiscing. Then he started acting strange."

"What do you mean strange?" Sam asks.

"I don't know. He'd just disappear. Radio silence. And I don't know when he'd start emailing again. But he was different. Focused."

"Focused on what?" Sam prompts.

"Revenge." Mrs. Silvers answers. "And the kids at the college started dying. I thought it might be Andrew. It... What was I supposed to do? Call the cops and tell them the ghost of my dead husband is picking off co-eds? But mostly I just didn't want to face the truth. Because I knew it was revenge that brought him back. And if I tried to stop him, that he might go away. And I didn't want to lose him again."

**Basement**

"Try to stay calm," Dean tells Delilah as he paces restlessly. "What was that?" A sound catches Dean's attention. He looks through the sofa cushions, pulling out a buzzing cell phone.

The burnt corpse of Mr. Silverman appears in front of Delilah. "Aaaa!" she screams. Dean strides over, swinging the crowbar. Andrew flings Dean back with a look. Dean hits a basement post and falls down with a thud.

"Please don't kill me!" Delilah pleads, backing up against a laundry machine. "We didn't mean to hurt you. It was an accident. I swear. If I could do it over again, I would have done the right thing." Delilah chokes on her last words as Andrew Silverman grabs her by the throat, lifting her off her feet.

Suddenly, she drops as the ghost disappears. Dean's fast crowbar swings passes through the ghosts' body. "Let's go, the door!"

Delilah runs and pulls at the door frantically. "It's locked!"

"Andrew listen to me," Dean says, talking to the air. "You have every right to be pissed," Dean picks up the cell phone. "But take it from me, the more you kill, the crazier you'll get. The blood fuels the rage." Dean dials Sam's number. "So looks like to me, you got two choices. You can keep killing and become something that you won't recognize. Or you can move on. Because that is the only thing that will give you peace. It's up to you man!"

Dean and Delilah look around. "Pain or peace," Dean says, looking around.

"Aaaa!" Delilah screams as Andrew's ghostly form appears behind Dean.

Andrew puts his hands on Dean's chest. Dean flies through a flimsy wooden door into a storage closet.

Dean gets up and stumbles out of the closet. Andrew appears again, grabbing Dean by the throat. He pushes Dean back against the wall. Dean grunts as he chokes. His hands clasp the ghosts hands, but can't move them.

"Andrew, It's Corrie." The voice and face of Mrs. Silverman come through the cell phone. "Please listen to me."

Delilah holds the cell phone facing the ghost. "You have to stop this. Revenge. It's turning you into a different person." Dean's face turns red and he grunts as he slowly chokes. "It's time for me to let go. And for you to do the same. Please Andrew .. please."

Andrew lets go.

Dean gasps and slides down the wall.

"Do this for me, do this for us!" Mrs. Silverman pleads.

Andrew nods slightly.

"Goodbye," she says firmly.

The ghost disappears in a ball of red-tinged white light. Dean gasps for breath, leaning back against the wall.

Sam watches silently as Mrs. Silverman sobs.

**810 Downs Drive**

"You sure you wannna do this?" Dean asks from the front passenger seat.

Delilah sniffs, her face blotchy with tears. She nods. "Yeah, should have done this a long time ago." She gets out of the impala.

The brothers watch as Delilah walks up to the door of Mrs. Silverman's mansion. She knocks. The door opens.

Mrs Silverman looks over Delilah's head at Dean and Sam. "Come in, she says to Delilah."

"It looks like Andrew wasn't the only one who chose peace," Sam says.

"Yeah, looks like," Dean's young voice sounds strange. "Look at what those thoughts lead to."

"What do you mean?" Sam asks.

"My peace is helping people. Workin cases. That's all I wanna do."

"Is this about the mark?" Sam asks.

"I'm done trying to find a cure Sammy."

"Dean, Cass is so close."

"To what?" Dean asks.

Sam heaves a sigh.

"We don't even know if there is a cure. So far we got nothing. We have found nothing at the men of letters library. Metatron may or may not know something and maybe Cass is onto something with Cain. Maybe."

"Yeah, maybe," Sam says impatiently. "Look, nothing is guaranteed, Dean. So what?! You can't just stop fighting."

"Yes, we can." Dean says.

"So this is it, you just gonna give up," Sam snarls out the last words.

"Nope, I'm not gonna just give up." Dean retorts. "I appreciate the effort, ok, I do. But the answer is not out there. It's within me. I need to be the one calling the shots here. Hey I can't keep waking up every morning with this false hope. I gotta know where I stand. Otherwise I'm gonna lose my freakin mind."

Sam swallows heavily.

Sam looks over at Dean. He rests his hand on his brother's shoulder for a moment. Dean looks up at his younger brother.

Sam starts the car. The impala speeds off.


	3. Executioner's Song

**S10e14 The Executioner's Song**

A tattooed man lies on his back in a jail cell.

A heavy-set guard walks down the lines of cells. He looks inside the window of each cell, then taps the door with his stick before moving on. "Lights out in 5," he says in a gruff voice.

"Hey, any mail?" The tattooed man sits up in his cell, calling outside to the guard.

"Ohhhh, the usual. Postcards from the death penalty folk. Proposals from your lady admirer. You said you were done with those?"

The prisoner in the cell window nods his head.

The guard turns and walks on.

"Hey, how's your wife by the way," the prisoner calls out to the back of the guard.

The guard stops.

"Amanda. That's her name isn't it? You know I killed an Amanda once. Like fourth." The prisoner stuffs a piece of paper napkin inside his nose.

The guard turns back to the prisoner's cell.

"I'd do your wife the same buddy," the prisoner taunts. "Only slower."

The guard shakes his head. "Two weeks from Tuesday, Tommy." The guard draws a line across his _neck_.

"Hehah. Let's do it," Tommy snivels. "Let's do it now!"

The guard reaches a locked prison door. He nods up at a security camera.

In the security room, a man watching the security cameras presses a button.

The door opens. The guard walks through, closing the door behind him.

In the security room, the man takes his mug and leaves his chair.

Inside his cell, the prisoner sits back down.

Lights flicker. The shadow of a man appears in front of the prison door. With a flicker of light, the shape of a man reappears on the other side of the prison door.

In the security room, the man pours himself coffee, his back to the security monitors. The heavy-set guard walks into the room.

The supernatural creatures walks forward into the corridor of prison cells.

In the security room, the man asks, "Tolliver giving you the usual grief?"

"Nothing new," the heavy set guard says, placing his weapons into a locker.

Back in the prison corridor, the creature walks down the doors as the heavy-set guard had just done. Each time he touches the chains on the walls, the lights dim and go out.

Tolliver peers out his cell window.

Back in the security room, the heavy set guard complains to his coworker. "I can't wait until he's gone." The guard glances into the screen. He sees the shadow of the man-shaped figure striding down the corridor. The cameras go dark as all of the lights in the cells turn off.

Suddenly, the lights flick back on. Empty corridors are all that show up in the security monitors. The heavy set guard looks over at his buddy. The man shakes his head. The heavy-set guard shrugs a little.

Inside Tolliver's cell, the man appears.

"Who the hell are you?" Tolliver demands. "How'd you get in here?"

"I've gone by many names in this life," Cain replies in a calm, pleasant voice. "The father of murder is one of them."

Tolliver backs away, circling Cain.

"By the state's account, you've taken six lives yourself Tommy. Although by my count, it's nine."

Tolliver's shaky hands push a book off a battered metal fold-down desktop. "Aw, come on. You're not one of those it's not me fellows," Cain says in a falsely sympathetic voice. "Because I know you're a killer. Just like me."

Tolliver grins, showing his teeth. "Yeah," he says proudly, "I did it."

"Honesty, that's good." Cain praises him. "That's the spirit," he growls as Tolliver swings a fist at Cain. Cain catches the fist easily in one hand, twisting Tolliver's hand down with a crunching twist of torn tendons.

"Ohh," Tolliver gasps.

Cain raises his right hand, two fingers outstretched. Tolliver's other arm moves down. "Now I bet you're wondering what I'm doing here. Did I come to punish you? Or save you?" Cain draws a silver blade. "Well the truth is, Tommy," Cain whispers into Tommy Tolliver's ear, "I'm here to do both."

Cain slips the blade through Tommy's body in an easy motion. The bloody point of the knife protrudes out from the back of Tolliver's prison shirt. A drip of blood falls down from the point of the knife. Both men disappear.

**The Bunker**

Dean's cell phone rings. He checks the caller ID, then answers, "Hey Tina."

Tina breathes heavily on the other line, "Dean, I'm sorry to call you like this. You know how I said how I'm always okay? Well, I ran into some trouble," she takes a deep breath, "And I really need your help on this one buddy." Her adult words clash oddly with her light, childish voice.

"What's wrong?" Dean asks.

"I was camping with a group of homeless kids in Kennewick. Couple nights ago, I find a body that looked partly eaten. I get out of town and convince the kids to come with me. Last night, we get into Spokane, check into a youth shelter." Tina's whispered voice rushes on, "This morning, one of the kids is gone and I catch a glimpse..." click.

"Tina?"

**Spokane, WA**

Tina whirls around, slipping her cell phone into a pocket.

In sharp contrast to the spartan, dorm-like surroundings, a thin man dressed in a suit looms over Tina. "Glimpse of what, my dear?" he smiles, reaching out for her arm.

**Polunksy Unit. West Livingstone, Texas**

A suited man crouches in front of the drip of blood on the cell floor.

"Warden Ski?" Sam asks from behind the man.

"Inspector Moore," Sam says. "We spoke on the phone."

"Yeah," the warden says, "Welcome to death row. Have a look," he says, gesturing with his hand. "I think you'll be finding we're TIGD compliant." The warden walks out of the cell.

Sam slips his EMF reader out his pocket, takes a reading, then slips it back into his pocket. Sam follows the warden outside. "So, why don't you tell me what happened?"

"The night Tolliver disappeared, our little ship was as tight as ever. And I got documentation to prove it." The warden speaks curtly.

"You stand by what the press is saying?" Sam asks, his body blocked the door and the warden's view into the room. "Locked cell, no security breach, no guard misconduct." The heavy-set guard glares silently at Sam from across the hallway.

"Which press? Mainstream media is calling for my head. Said I was grossly incompetent. But the tabloids, they're saying,"

"They're saying it's supernatural." Sam interrupts, talking over the warden. "That Tommy pulled off some dark miracle to escape." Sam smiles mockingly. "You saying you believe that?"

The warden replies evenly. "I'm saying there was some kind of magician on the block last night. That it wasn't Tommy.

**The Security Room**

"That's right before Tolliver vanishes," the warden explains, as they watch the security videos.

"Is that a brownout?" Sam asks as he sees the lights dim.

"That was my thought," the warden nods his head at the screen, "But then …"

They watch as the figure of a man appears in the security video, lights dimming as the man passes through the corridor.

"Is that one of the guards?" Sam asks.

"Nope," replies the warden. "I don't know who he is, how he got in, or how he and Tolliver got out."

"Huh." Sam takes out his cellphone. "Would you zoom in on that profile shot?" He takes a snapshot. "And zoom-in on the picture?" Sam takes another photo. "Right, thank you."

**A Room**

A cell phone rings. "You gonna answer that?" a man says in an annoyed voice, sitting in a chair in the middle of the room.

"Not at this moment," Castiel replies calmly.

The man's demonic black eyes look especially dark framed by his pale face and red hair. "You're wasting your time. Told you, I don't know where he is."

Castiel paces around the demon.

"The demon Cain has friends. He kills demons. Low level ones like me, we keep our distance."

"You sure about that," Castiel asks, looming over the demon. Casually, he slices the demon's arm. The knife burns a fiery trail down the demon's arm.

"Alright, alright," the demon gasps, sweating. "He's been seen the past few months, making passes through Bogsmarsh, one county over. No one knows why, what for. Like I said, we keep our distance."

Castiel lifts his angelblade to the demon's right eye. "And that's all you know?" he asks in a flat voice.

"Yes. Yes, I swear."

Castiel lowers the blade. The demon sighs in relief and glances away from Castiel.

With a sad look, Castiel drives the blade into the demon's chest. Light bursts from the demon's eyes and it dies.

**Crowley's Throne Room**

"86 last quarter," a man says excitedly. "I'll only get credit for 48. And I was working with Alban on almost all those soul jobs."

In a bored voice, Crowley says, "If you don't arrive at a point within the next 10 seconds, so help me," he says while looking at his iphone.

"As a crossroads demon, I have received less credit than I am due for soul collections." The red-haired demon complains to Crowley. "My King."

"So you're looking for a promotion." Crowley says.

"No! I'm just asking …" the demon continues forcefully.

Crowley gives the demon a look.

In a meeker voice, the demon continues, "I'm merely suggesting that I get credit for the work that I did beside Alban. Equal credit for equal work."

"Fine, you can have your credit." Crowley replies.

"Thank you," the demon says.

"Oh the wee man," Rowena says, as she sits on a chair near Crowley, sewing.

"Mother, you have ... uh ... an opinion that you would like to share with the world?"

"Oh no, private thought. Nothing to do with you, or the affairs of the court." Rowena sits back. She leans forward and interjects, "It's just not what I would do."

"Oh enlighten a soul. What would you do?" Crowley smiles charmingly.

Rowena drops her eyes from the demon, working on her sewing. "This demon, he asked you to equalize credit for his and another demon's work. Split the baby if you will. Well, then I would cut this puling grub in two, literally."

Crowley looks thoughtful.

"Then I'd nail his bloody heart to the door to the court, a reminder to all not to waste the King's time." Rowena continues in a commanding voice. "Whiner's beget whiners. You can't reward behavior like that," Rowena smiles sweetly.

Crowley looks over at the demon standing to his left, beside his throne.

"What will it be sir?"

Crowley leans forward, looking at the cringing red-haired demon. "Let's do … what she said."

"Wha? Nnnnnnnn," the red-haired demon stammers as two guard demons grab him. "No, no no no!" he screams.

Crowley looks over at his mother and gives a half-smile.

"That's my boy," Rowena smiles at him.

**Spokane, WA**

Dean steps out of a bus, carrying a pack that looks oversized on his slim frame. He takes out his cell phone and dials Sam. "I'm here. Freakin hate buses," he grumbles pointlessly. "What d'you got?"

"Well I've been looking into Tommy Tolliver's history to figure out why Cain would go to the trouble of springing him."

"And?" Dean prompts.

"Still pretty unclear," Sam responds, looking at his ipad. "I found this blotter out of Orlando about his dad, Leon Tolliver. Uh, like father like son. Convicted felon, fresh warrant for assault charge. But he's gone missing, hasn't been seen in a week."

"You think the two are connected?" Dean asks, as he walks down the street.

"I mean, police just assumed he fled the warrant. "But if Cain took Tommy, it might not be a coincidence."

"So what, Cain's got a vendetta against the guy's family?"

Sam shrugs, making a face. "Maybe."

Dean's phone buzzes. "It's Cass," he says, looking at the phone. "Let me get this."

"Hey, where you at?" Dean says.

"Illinois," Cass says.

"Hey we got a lead, Cain abducted a Texas deathrow inmate named Tommy Tolliver."

Castiel handles a white shoe. "He is very likely to be dead."

"Why's that?" Dean asks.

"Cain has been busy." Castiel stands up in a large clearing full of body-sized mounds.

"Okay, what have you found out?" Dean says.

Jimmy Novak's face twists into a concerned frown. "I'll call you back," Castiel says, hanging up without revealing his location. Castiel turns. Cain stands not more than 50 feet away.

"Hello, Castiel," Cain says coldly.

"What have you done?" Castiel asks quietly, his voice barely audible.

"The bodies?" Cain says evenly, glancing around the clearing. "Just cleaning up a mess I made a long time ago."

"Cain, I know what you were," Castiel's voice is tight with emotion. "But you've resisted for so long."

"What can I say. I got the taste back. I took up arms again. I _like how it feels._" Cain closes the distance towards Castiel.

"They are humans, Cain."

"The Mark thirsts for all kinds," Cain says, crouching and picking up a dirty teddy bear from the ground.

"This is a massacre," Castiel accuses Cain.

"Yes, and soon it will be a genocide. My children, my whole poisoned issue. A lot of them out there now. Killers, fighters, thieves. Some more peaceful than others. They still carry it, a disease. If the Mark wants blood I will give it mine."

"You will kill them all? You are Adam and Eve's firstborn. Your descendants are legion." Castiel steps towards Cain.

"At most I'm culling, one in ten." Cain says.

"Of everyone?" Castiel asks.

"I've got time," Cain replies shortly. "How's Dean by the way? I hear he did good. Took Abaddon down."

The look on Castiel's face tells Cain enough.

"He's not well," Cain says.

"Even with the First Blade hidden, Dean is losing his fight against the Mark. If we don't find a cure…"

"There is no cure," Cain cuts across Castiel's words. "I'm living proof of that. But don't worry about Dean. I'll get to him in due time."

The angelblade slips into Castiel's right hand.

"Sorry Castiel," Cain says, glancing at the blade. "You're not on my list." Cain disappears, leaving Castiel alone in the clearing.

**The Demon King's Castle**

Crowley and Rowena walk down a hallway. "Crowley," Rowena says. "Long day, I'm sure you must be tired. But I have a little idea."

"Yes," Crowley says in a quiet voice.

"The name of it means little to you. A member of the Grand Coven, the one who laid the charge against me. Really, it's a grudge, I won't even deny it. She's come back to the states. And I thought if you and your Kingly beneficence would be so kind as to assist me, now would be an excellent time to strike."

Crowley looks levelly at Rowena, his expression unreadable. "Well done mother, next time you run a long con, let more than a few hours of suspicious uncharacteristic usefulness pass before making your ask."

"You think I had an ulterior motive?" Rowena asks sweetly. "That I've been manipulating you," she says in disbelief.

"You couldn't be more transparent," Crowley says gently.

Rowena giggles, "Well, of course I was manipulating you. I am a witch after all," she says with a wide smile. "Manipulation's who we are. My wee sausage, what matters it I had a motive, we had fun today didn't we?"

"It was fine," Crowley replies levelly.

"We could have more," Rowena says coyly. "Flex our muscles in the upper world. Enjoy ourselves a wee bit. And in the process, take out a miserable old witch who's been standing in my way for centuries. What do you say?"

Crowley turns. He walks down the hallway, away from Rowena.

**Spokane, WA  
**

Cas and Sam sit next to Dean on a park bench.

"Thank you," Sam says to Cass. "Sheriff gave me some preliminary findings on the bodies."

"And?" Dean asks.

"And it seems to fit Cass's story. He's wiping out entire families, one after the other."

"So who's next, any pattern to it?" Dean asks.

"Oh come on, dammit," Sam mutters.

Cass leans over to look at the laptop. "What?"

"Tommy did have a son. Estranged. He lives with his mother in Ohio." Sam pulls up the birth certificate. "Uh, Austin Reynolds, 12 years old."

"Is the kid still alive?" Dean asks urgently.

"As of an hour ago," Sam says, pulling up the kid's facebook page. Yeah, he updated his status."

Dean springs to his feet.

"Where you going?" Sam asks.

Dean waves his arm at the laptop. "We know where Cain's going to be. The kid's in danger."

Cass and Sam look at Dean.

Sam says, "So what, we track him down to Ohio, and then what."

"Then I'll do what I have to do," Dean says with his usual mixture of egotism and idiocy. "I'll kill Cain."

Sam looks at Dean, annoyed disbelief on his face.

"When he gave me the Mark, Cain said that this day would come. That after I killed Abaddon, I would come and put him down."

"Great, so you're taking orders from a madman." Sam says sarcastically.

"Heh," Dean grunts, "He wasn't mad then. Cain resisted the Mark for a long time. Then I came kicking up trouble about the Blade. I sent him down this path. This is on me."

"Doesn't mean you have to be the one to go after him," Sam says, his arms out, pleading gently with Dean, his body at odds with the harsh directness of his words.

"Yes, it does, there's only one thing that can kill him."

"The Blade," Sam says, looking away from Dean.

"Dean, wielding the Blade against Cain himself," Sam looks at Dean. "Win or lose, you may never come back from that fight."

Dean looks up to face Sam. "I know," he says quietly.

**The King of Hell's Castle**

"And a demon force to get us past her security." Rowena strokes a map laid out on a table, glancing triumphantly at Crowley. "Once we're inside, well we'll take her off guard. Look what I got," Rowena holds up a large piece of amber.

"Illusion-work. Smart," Crowley says tolerantly. His cell phone rings. Not Moose shows up in the caller ID. "Excuse me, be right back," Crowley walks away for some privacy.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't…"

"Cain's back." Dean's voice cuts across Crowley's. "He's gone dark and I need the Blade."

"What, who is this?"

"It's me, Dean," Dean says in his light, teenaged voice.

"Really .. because ..."

"Look, it's me. I don't have time to explain. I need the Blade," Dean interrupts rudely.

"Don't have time to explain or can't be bothered to explain?"

Dean fumes on the other side of the phone.

"And assuming I believe you, why would I deal with you?" Crowley says coolly.

"Because you have as much reason as anyone to want Cain off the board. Cain has a kill list. And you're on it." Dean pauses to let the information sink in. "What do you say Crowley, you in?"

With a start, Crowley answers, "Yes."

"Good, I'll text you the location." Dean hangs up.

Rowena starts speaking as Crowley hangs up the phone and turns towards her. "I've got an especially nasty spell to finish her off with," she smirks.

"Mother, it's not happening."

Rowena looks up at Crowley. "What?" she says in a small voice.

"Not today." Crowley says.

"Where are you going?" Rowena asks urgently.

"Something's come up." Crowley flips open a metal lid on a table. "All of it can wait." A drawer shoots out, a wrapped bundle the size of the First Blade lies in the drawer alone.

"Is that wha I think it is?" Rowena asks shrilly.

"Not that it's any of your business." Crowley says.

"Let me guess, bringing it to your pal the Winchester boy. You'd give that to the one person who can harness its power against you. He's a threat to you!"

"We've a common enemy. A bigger threat."

"Well, if he's not a threat to your life, he's certainly a threat to your credibility." Rowena lashes at Crowley verbally. "Think about what this does to your reputation!"

"We're not having this conversation," Crowley says, a twisted look passing over his face.

"Hunters!" Rowena snarls as Crowley walks away. "You honestly believe that they're your friends!"

A gate slams behind Crowley with a clash.

**Children's Shelter**

Sam walks into the dormitory with the slim, suited man. "Now, you're sure she wasn't here earlier? I know this is a place she was thinking of running to."

"Your daughter seems quite the charming planner," the man smiles slickly.

Sam smiles politely back. "I'm sure, Mr. Connors. She's probably using a fake name. She .. has these fantasies growing up, and with my wife leaving. It's been a hard time for her."

Heaving a sigh, Sam sits down on a bunk, looking depressed.

After a long pause, the man says, "Well ..." he looks at Sam uncooperatively.

Sam gets up. "Yeah," he says as they walk out of the shelter. "Thank you."

Outside the dorm, Sam sighs a genuine sigh of frustration. His eye falls on a boy watching the dorm from across the street.

Sam starts casually walking to the boy.

The boy stares at Sam, with a frightened look. Suddenly, he breaks and starts running.

"Hey, hey Jacob! Jacob do you remember me? I visited your mother once, when you were sick." Sam yells as he runs after the boy.

Sam chases the boy into a wide alley. Cornered, Jacob turns and looks up at Sam. "You probably don't remember me," Sam gasps for breath, towering over Jacob. "You were sick when I visited last. Your mother and I were childhood friends. Look, I didn't expect to meet you here. Tina called me, but she got cut off before she could explain. Please, will you tell me what's going on?"

Jacob gives Sam a cool, assessing look. He answers, "My mom died."

"I know. I'm sorry." Sam struggles to speak normally. "I didn't find out until later what happened."

Jacob gives Sam a look. "I met Owen and Andrew in Kennewick and they've been letting me stay with them in their tent. The cops don't bother us out there and they try to protect me, like they're my brothers. Tina showed up in town and she talked them into letting her live in their tent. Next she freaks out and convinces them to leave town and come out here. I got a bad feeling in that home and snuck out." Jacob glares at Sam challengingly.

"Yeah, okay. Did you notice anything while you were watching?"

Jacob doesn't answer.

"Smell anything?" Sam suggests.

Jacob gives Sam a sharp look. "Tina and Mr. Connors, they smell bad."

"Bad how?" Sam asks.

"I don't know. The same bad," Jacob answers.

"Huh. Maybe witchcraft. Tina's under a spell," Sam explains to Jacob. "One I couldn't break at the time. She just wanted to leave and get out of town. Okay, come on." Sam says. He looks out the alley and starts walking. "You wait in my car and I'm going in for Tina and your brothers. Do you have a cell phone?" Sam asks.

**A Large Mansion**

Dean and Castiel stand, looking at a barn.

"We save the kid after Cain shows." Dean says, looking down, huddled in his jacket.

"A twelve-year old as bait. I can't believe what I'm hearing." Crowley appears from the shadows of the trees.

Dean gives Crowley a look.

"You've changed, and not for the better," Crowley looks down at Dean.

Castiel looks at Crowley with a puzzled expression.

"Don't patronize me." Dean says, "You're here for one reason. Give me the Blade," Dean says arrogantly.

"Yeah, about that. Seeing as this is shaping up to be one of those uh, two-step capture then kill kind of deals, I think it's better to keep the Blade out of your hands until we've got Cain sewn up. Just to be safe."

Castiel shoots Crowley a suspicious look.

"Now back to this plan of yours." Crowley says.

**Children's Shelter, Spokane, WA**

Sam walks into the shelter, moving quickly. His eyes sweeping the room. He looks around, then walks to an office. The door is locked.

The slick man appears at Sam's side.

"Mr Connors, Mr. Connors. Yeah, you know, we need to talk privately." Sam says aggressively. "That kid outside just old me he saw my daughter in here." Sam glances around.

Suddenly, Sam punches Mr. Connors, then shoves the man into the wall.

Connors reaches into a pocket, "M..."

Sam slams a fist into Mr. Connors' head, then shoves the man into the wall.

"Muuurmooo.." Mr Connors continues speaking an incantation.

"Bang!" Sam fires into the witch's chest, gun in his hand. "Dammit," Sam swears as the witch falls bleeding to the ground.

A scream and the sound of running feet can be heard in the background.

Sam slips the gun back into his jacket and crouches down. He searches through the man's pockets, finally pulling out jangling keys.

Sam opens the office door. The cluttered office is covered in papers. Moving quickly, Sam searches the place. Opening a file drawer, he finds witch's paraphernalia and a book. He takes the book, then runs out of the office.

A kid outside in the hallway sees Sam and screams.

"It's ok! I'm here for my daughter. Have you seen her?"

The kid shakes her head.

"Quickly, run before the gunman comes back!" Sam orders her.

The kid looks at Sam, then runs.

Sam races down the hall, testing the doors.

"Dean, Dean is that you?" Sam hears a voice call out.

Sam tracks the voice down to a locked dorm room. The window into the room is papered over. Sam fumbles with the keys.

Finally, the door clicks open. Tina is at the door. She looks up, "Sam! Mr. Connors is a witch!"

"I shot him. Let's go, hurry!" Sam takes her by the wrist. "We'll need to burn him."

"The whole shelter?" Tina asks in alarm.

"Yeah, maybe," Sam says as they run down some stairs.

Back at the body, Sam sloshes oil from a flask over the body, then sets it on fire.

Tina watches Sam with a strange expression on her face. A fire alarm starts to scream and wail.

"Is there a back door to this place?"

"Yeah, over here," Tina says looking down the hall. "When I tried to leave, I couldn't walk out the door."

"Alright," Sam says, "Did Mr. Connors give you anything to wear?"

Tina holds out her arm. A plastic ID tag circles her thin wrist.

Sam draws his pocketknife and slits the tag off, tossing it onto the growing fire.

Sam enters the office, slams open the file cabinet, and grabs the stack of photos.

He tosses them onto the burning body and watches as they go up in flames.

Sam says, "Let's go."

"Owen and Andrew, they're upstairs!" Tina blurts out.

Sam grimaces. He races back down the hallway to the stairs.

Shaking, Tina tears off the plastic bracelet, dropping it onto the fire. She runs down the hallway.

**Outside the Barn**

The boy walks outside the barn, basketball under one arm, music blaring audibly through his earbuds. Hinges creak. A door slams. The boy pulls out his earbuds. "Someone there?" he calls out, looking around.

Cain appears before the boy. "Hello Austin."

"Who are you?" the boy asks, taken aback.

"I'm here to kill you." Cain casually draws a blade.

Castiel appears between Cain and the boy. "No you're not."

"Run!" Castiel orders the boy. The boy runs back to the door to the barn. Dean appears in the doorway, but the boy doesn't slow his run. Dean ducks out of the way as the boy runs inside.

"You can't stop me," Cain says levelly.

Castiel raises his left palm. Blue angel light shines in his eyes. Wind blows past Cain, moving his hair. The light in Cass' eyes dies.

With a simple gesture, Cain waves his blade, and Cass's angelwing flies out of his hand and onto the ground. A twist of his knife from twenty feet away, and Cass's body flies through the empty bin of a compost heap.

Inside the barn, Dean slides the doors shut. The boy backs away into the center of the barn, staring at Dean. Dean slides a rune-inscribed metal bar through the handles of the door. The barn door bangs, then the bangs stop. Cain appears behind the boy.

"Don't, please don't," the boy says.

Cain stabs. The boy disappears in purple light. "Illusion spell," Cain says.

"The real Austin is long gone," Dean says.

"18-th century magic, if I had to hazard a guess, rune of amaranth." Cain says lightly.

"Good eye," Crowley says as he walks out from behind a stack of hay. "Something I picked up from my mother."

"Well, I know you fear me. I can only assume you …" Cain's foot wipes away some hay, revealing a devil's trap. "Clever. Won't hold me for long though."

"It won't need to," Dean says evenly.

Dean turns to Crowley, holding up his hand palm up, for the Blade.

Crowley holds out the Blade hilt-first, then hesitates. "What guarantee do I have that you'll give it back when you're done?"

Dean laughs, "Whatever comes out of this barn, you take it out and take the Blade back yourself."

Crowley lets the hilt of the First Blade fall into Dean's hand. The Blade whines softly as Dean looks down at it.

Crowley disappears.

"Dean," Cain says calmly. "Your form fooled me for a minute. Witchcraft, very old transformation magic, 14th Century. Quite rare. At a loss for words, my son? Allow me. This is the part where you tell me that it's not too late. I can lay down arms, abandon my mission. We don't have to fight." Cain uses his words to eat up time for his power to burn through the devil's trap.

"I'll spare us the formalities." Dean says. "You asked me to come and take you down after I finished Abaddon. Now here I am."

"Oh, no. When I made my bargain with Lucifer to kill Abel, I released a stain upon the earth. A stain deeper and far more lasting than mere precedence. Finally, I have a clear mind."

"Your bloodline's tainted, so you say." Dean waits at the edge of the large devil's trap.

"So I know," Cain says pleasantly. "Not all killers are my descendants and not all my descendants are killers, but enough are. Enough for me to know that extinguishing them is the least I owe this world. Can you honestly tell me that humanity's not better off with fewer Tommys and fewer Leons. Fewer yous." Cain nods at Dean.

"And what about the kid?" Dean asks harshly.

"He could go either way." Cain says. "I prefer to be thorough. How's it feel Dean, holding the Blade again?"

"It feels like a means to an end," Dean says calmly. He steps inside the trap.

"Then do it," Cain says.

Dean steps forward slowly. He swings wildly and slowly at Cain. Cain blocks Dean's attacks, toying with the human. He flicks Dean down. Dean rolls and gets up slowly. He swings at Cain again. Cain dodges easily. They grapple. Dean hits the hard floor of the bard and side rolls. Flung outside of the devil's trap, Dean gets up on his feet slowly, his body curled up against the pain. Dean moves to Cain and strikes again.

Cain grips Dean's wrists with his own, their arms crossed. "That seems a bit weaker from you than I would expect with the Blade. I think you can do better. Unless," Cain says, punching Dean. "You're holding back," he says accusingly.

"What is it Dean, do you think that if you hold back just enough, you won't succumb? That you'll leave this fight the same as you entered?" Cain holds Dean and flings him hard onto the floor outside the trap. "Look to my example, boy. There is no resisting the Mark or the Blade. There is only remission and relapse." Cain swings a fist down onto Dean.

Dean coughs, his body outside the trap. Kneeling, he looks up at Cain. "You told me that this day would come," Dean says as he gets to his feet. "You told me that I would have to kill you."

"Is that so?" Cain says coldly. He holds out his hand, and with a gesture Dean flies across the circle, crashing through an inside window. "I'm afraid you misunderstood my intentions here Dean. When your pet angel found my burial site, I thought about ending him and swatting him like a fly. But then I thought about you. Your biggest weakness. The thing I noticed the moment I met you. Your courage. Your reckless bravado."

The Blade lies half inside the devil's trap.

Cain continues speaking, "I let him go, knowing that he would report back to you. Knowing that you would bring into battle the one thing that can kill me. The one thing I truly want."

Dean leaps towards the Blade. The Blade slides across the hay on the barn floor, and stops at Cain's foot. Cain picks up the Blade. A sizzling sound comes from Cain's fist. "Oh, it's been too long." Cain closes his eyes. "That old feeling makes me wonder how I ever had the strength to resist."

Dean runs at Cain. Cain grabs Dean by the throat. "This may be hard to believe in light of what I'm about to do to you, but I care about you Dean. I truly do, but I know I'm doing you a favor. I'm saving you."

"Saving me from what?" Dean mumbles through Cain's iron grip on his throat.

"From your fate." Cain throws Dean on the ground. "Has it never occurred to you? Have you never mused upon the fact that you're living my life in reverse? My story began when I killed my brother and that's where your story inevitably will end." Dean rolls onto his back.

"No, never." Dean groans.

Cain slams his foot onto Dean's chest. "It's called the Mark of Cain for a reason. First, first you'd kill Crowley. There's be strange, mixed feelings on that one, but you'd have your reasons. You'd get it done, no remorse. And then you'd kill the angel, Castiel. Now that one, that I suspect would hurt something awful. And then!" Cain slams his body down on Dean, straddling Dean's body. "Then would come the murder you'd never survive. The one that would finally turn you into as much of a savage as me."

"No," Dean mutters, a hoarse whisper all he can manage to say.

"Your brother, Sam. The only thing standing between you and that destiny is this Blade." Cain pauses. Gently, he says, "You're welcome my son." Cain swings the unwieldy First Blade down.

Dean's sneaky fingers slip Cain's silver blade out of the scabbard. He slashes at Cain's arm. The merest touch of the archangel blade slides through Cain's arm, burning the wound closed. The hand and First Blade fall onto the barn floor. Cain grabs at the stump of his arm, whimpering. Dean grabs the First Blade and stands, slowly edging towards Cain.

"What's the matter," Cain says contemptuously.

"Tell me I don't have to do this. Tell me that you'll stop. Tell me that you can stop."

"I will never stop," Cain says calmly.

Dean circles Cain, facing his back.

Cain closes his eyes, allowing Dean to move behind him. Dean raises the Blade. He plunges it into Cain's back. Thunder rumbles.

**Outside the Barn**

Dean stumbles down the steps to the two waiting figures.

"Dean, the Blade," Crowley puts out his hand.

Dean hands the First Blade to Castiel. Cass takes the Blade and steps away from Crowley.

"You lied to me." Crowley says evenly.

"It's not the first time today. Cain's list. You weren't on it."

Crowley disappears.

Dean's battered face looks numb.

**The King of Hell's Castle**

Crowley walks into a room. His mother waits inside. "Fergus."

Crowley pours himself a drink. "I don't want to hear it. The 'I told you so.' Not now." Crowley looks at the bags at his mother's feet. "What are you doing?"

"What's it look like? I'm leaving."

"Another petty manipulation." Crowley strides to his mother, his drink in one hand.

"No."

"Then what mother, what do you want from me?" Crowley roars.

"You can't understand my disappointment. Or my pride. You don't know this. But after I left you. After I was forced to leave you, I heard of your death. Your mortal death. I thought you were gone to me forever. Then, hundreds of years later, and thousands of miles away, I find you the King of Hell. And not by luck or accident. You made that happen all by yourself."

Crowley smiles, while Rowena weeps.

"You're not a mother. You can't know what that pride felt like. How huge it was. But can you try to imagine. For me? Now do you understand why it breaks my heart to see what a colossal numb nut you've become? You've got the crown, but you're no ruler, not really. A sad, bored, wee boy on the throne, who'll flop ass-up the second those Winchesters. Hunters! Who'd as soon see you dead as have you for tea, ask you to. You can't, not anymore."

Rowens stumbles as Crowley grabs her wrist. "You're their bitch." She tells Crowley. She walks away, leaving her bags on the floor.

**The Bunker**

Dean drinks from a mug, his face and knuckles bruised and scraped. Sam pours himself coffee. "Dean um, you know, what you did back there, it was incredible. You know, if you can fight Cain without losing yourself, that's cause for hope, even without a cure."

"Yeah," Dean's lips quirk into a small smile. "Maybe," he says hopefully. "Tina doing okay?"

"Yeah, another witch. What are the chances of that?" Sam says with a frown.

Cass enters the room.

"So, where's the Blade?" Dean asks, looking at Cass.

"Somewhere safe, "Cass says.

"Good," Dean says.

"Well, if you guys will excuse me, I think I'm going to sleep for about four days." Dean gets up from the table.

"Of course," Sam says, smiling a little.

Dean reaches up and pats Cass's shoulder as he walks by.

Cass turns to look at Dean leave, then asks Sam, "How is he?"

"Sam?" Cass asks again.

"Cass, Dean's in trouble."


	4. The Things They Carried

**The Road So Far**

The Mark of Cain brings out violent urges, super-strength and speed and precognitive abilities in Dean, along with working to prevent Dean from dying. Recently, a witch transformed Dean into a 14-year old, removing the Mark of Cain. Dean used the hex bag to transform into his adult, Marked body to fight the witch. The hex bag was destroyed. Sam is determined to remove the Mark and wants to recreate the witch's hex bag. Cain, the original bearer of the Mark, began killing people and Dean fought him. During the fight, Cain tells Dean that the Mark curses Dean to kill those he thinks of as brothers: Crowley, Castiel, and Sam. Dean has given up on removing the Mark. Charlie is in Spain, tracking down a lead. Castiel is searching for his lost Grace.

**Season 10 Episode 15, The Things They Carried.**

**Fayetteville, North Carolina**

Water drips into a pan. A man's ugly, scarred, peeling face enters the water. He guzzles the liquid desperately.

A woman's long, dark, coarse, curly hair dangles from her head. She hangs upside-down from the ceiling.

A blurry, upside-down image of a man walks towards her. He is outlined against the light of a large bay window.

The woman's hands are tied with yellow zip ties. Muffled whimpers of terror escape her duct-taped mouth. She is a fit young woman dressed in gym shorts and a gray tank top. Her bare legs are scraped and she looks around in terror.

The scarred man walks down a hallway towards the woman. She sees his army pants and boots with blurry vision. He carries an old white paint bucket. In one hand, he carries two shock rods. The woman writhes and grunts, trying to headbutt the scarred man. He sets the paint bucket down. With a grunt, he takes one rod into each hand and stabs the woman with the prongs. Her body shakes, then goes limp. He lets go of the rods. They drop on the floor with a loud clatter. The scarred man braces her head against his knee. He draws a large knife and slashes her throat. Bright blood splatters into the white bucket. The man cups his left hand and catches the falling blood in his hand. Bending down, he drinks.

**The Bunker, Dean's Room**

Dean sleeps on top of the bed. His teenaged body looks small in the double bed. Sam enters the room quietly. He stands over Dean. After a long moment, he reaches out and puts the back of his hand to Dean's forehead.

Dean rolls over in bed, slapping Sam's hand away and reaching out for a bottle as he wakes up.

Sam grabs the bottle and moves it out of reach, glaring at Dean. "Dean. Knock it off. You're a kid. We need to talk." Sam sits down on the bed.

Dean groggily sits up, staring at Sam.

"I'm not." Sam looks around, frustrated. "Look," Sam turns and grabs clumsily at Dean's wrist. Sam uses the touch with Dean to boost the remnants of his psychic abilities. "I'm not as sharp as I used to be." Sam looks at Dean. "After the trials and Gadreel. I can't … think as well. I don't know how we're going to make it through this."

"Sammy, we white-knuckled it through the Apocalypse, Eve, leviathans, an angel civil war…" Dean says, giving Sam a look.

Still, sepia images of Dean's fight with Cain flash through Sam's mind, flickering between the words of Sam and Dean's conversation. In Sam's mind, he sees Dean driving the first blade through Cain's back. Cain looks up, laughing wildly. Dean slips the blade out of Cain's back. Sam tightens his grip on Dean's wrist, preventing Dean from pulling away. Cain and Dean face each other. Cain speaks silently. Sam cannot hear the words.

"Shut up!" Sam bursts out.

Dean looks at Sam.

"I always used to have a plan or some idea of what we needed to do. Even if I didn't tell you about it. Now … I don't know," Sam rambles on as he watches the visions he's taking from Dean's memories.

In his mind, Sam watches as Cain takes the amputated stump of his hand. Cain stands up. He presses the hand back to the stump of his wrist, sealing his hand and arm together. Cain and Dean face other. Cain leans forward, "I forgive you." Cain disappears.

"What?" Dean stares at Sam, with a concerned look.

"Dean! I need you. I need you to be my big brother. I need to count on you. I'm not okay." Sam says, visibly upset.

In a vision, blood drips from Sam's forehead where Dean has shot him. Dean's hands flash to Sam's throat, crushing Sam's neck. Dean slams Sam onto the floor.

"You're not okay," Sam says.

Dean wrenches his wrist out of Sam's weakened grasp and stands up abruptly, hiding his face from Sam.

Sam gets up. Glaring at Dean, he says, "I brought Jacob back. Amy's son. He's been on the streets for the past three years. Where do you think he been getting pituitary glands from? Do you know how many homeless kids he's killed?!" Sam pauses, "Why did you do it, Dean?" Sam pleads.

Dean only answers Sam with his silence.

Sam walks away, swinging the door shut behind him.

Dean turns around, a sick look on his face. He picks up his gun and walks towards the dungeon, moving stiffly like his body aches.

"Dean," Tina's light, childish voice calls out. Her eyes flick to the handle of Dean's gun, sticking out of the top of Dean's jeans.

"Tina." Dean turns around to face Tina. He forces a smile. "You ok?" he asks.

"Yeah. Sam rescued me." Tina's sick grimace matches Dean's face. "He killed a witch. Shot him. Burned him and my photo to break the spell keeping me inside. The building burned down."

"Hah. That's a little rash for Sammy," Dean says by way of explanation. "Seeing Jacob ...," Dean stops. He looks at Tina's pale face.

"Who are you Dean? It's like I walked into a nightmare," Tina says calmly.

"It's a long story," Dean says.

"I've got plenty of time and you've got plenty of whiskey," Tina retorts.

Dean tries to quirk a smile, "We're both a little young for that now."

"Not for long," Tina says, her hand pressing on her stomach. "Sam's got what he needs to turn us back."

Dean looks at her. "You hungry?" he asks with concern.

"Haven't eaten for a few days. It comes back up. Sam says it's the spell. Surprised you're not feeling anything," Tina responds.

Dean frowns, his brows knotted. "Maybe, now that you mention it," he says. His left hand moves to his forearm and touches the Mark of Cain.

"So, what the hell's going on?" Tina asks.

Dean pauses. "Come on," he says, walking stiffly back inside his room. Dean sits down on the foot of the bed. Tina sits down next to him. Staring ahead, without looking at Dean, Tina says, "Sam had Jacob's body in the trunk. The kids I was with, they took off as soon as they could get away."

Dean stares ahead, not looking at Tina. He answers calmly, "Jacob's a kitsune. They need to eat pituitary glands. His mom had a nice setup going. Mortician. Steady supply and she didn't need to kill for em." Dean pauses. "I killed her." Dean wets his lips. "She was .. uh .. Sam's girlfriend. He found out she was killing humans. Her son Jacob was sick and needed fresher glands. It was just ... heh," Dean laughs. "I don't know what it was," Dean looks at Tina. "Just when things were better. Sammy had his soul back, I didn't need to dance around a monster shaped like my brother, and there he goes behind my back again." Dean smiles a large, fake grin. His hand rubs the Mark of Cain on his forearm. "Heh ..."

Tina stares dully ahead. Dean's face twists in concern. "Hey," he says, putting his arm around Tina's shoulders. Tina leans into Dean, her head rolling a little. Dean lifts her thin body easily, and lays her on the bed with her head on the pillow. She blinks up at Dean.

"Hey, stay with me. I get nightmares now," Tina whispers.

Dean sits back down on the bed. Tina curls up against his back. "Who are you? How'd it all start?"

Dean glances at her. "It's a long story. Started before we was born. The angels and demons ... bred mom and dad. A cupid shot em to make em fall in love. I was there ... when she made a deal with a demon to save dad's life in exchange for letting it feed Sam demon blood," Dean says, "Mom got out of hunting and she had us, two-pack of angel condoms for the Apocalypse. Me for Michael, and Sammy for Lucifer..."

Tina breathes shallowly, her eyes closed. Her face is pale. Dean gets up, then turns off the light. He leaves the room and shuts the door quietly behind him.

**The Bunker's Main Room**

Sam works at his laptop. Dean walks stiffly into the room. "What's going on with Tina?" Dean asks.

"Tina's sick, side effects from the transformation spell. That witch only intended the transformations to last long enough to slaughter y'all." Sam says, his face rigid with tension. "We should undo that spell today." A battered cardboard package is ripped open on the large desk in front of Sam.

"Huh. She's asleep in my room." Dean says. "I'll do myself first." Dean walks over to pull out a plastic bag from the package.

"Don't take too long. I found us a case," Sam glance back at his laptop screen.

**Night, The Impala**

The Impala zooms down a dark country highway. Dean's hand rests on the steering wheel. He is back in his adult body. He looks over to see Sam staring at his iphone.

"Hey, they caught the killer. Rick Willis. Set himself on fire. Poured gasoline all over himself then lit himself up," Sam says in a distant voice.

"Huh," Dean says. "What else does it say?"

Sam ignores Dean, his tired, baggy eyes on his phone.

"Sam. I know what you're doing. We are not harvesting the tender hearts of a loving mother and a newborn child born under a blue moon to remake that hex bag for a transformation spell. And even if we did, the spell goes wrong within weeks."

Sam glances up at Dean. "We could modify the spell, heart from a newborn calf ... we can test it. The hex bag would buy us time..." Sam pleads in an exhausted voice.

"Sam! We're on a job. Head in the game," Dean says.

Sam sighs.

**Fayetteville, North Carolina.**

A man slams shut the back doors to a white van, lettered with Fayetteville Pest Predators, Extermination Services. The white van drives off into the foggy, drizzly morning.

Dean glances at the white van, then walks down the busy downtown sidewalk to the Fayetteville Municipal Hall. Several of the pedestrians are dressed in military fatigues.

Dean walks into the building. Five people stand behind a reception desk, two are dressed in uniform. The counter is dominated by a clearly homemade chocolate cake, the filling oozing out the sides. A bald older man in uniform turns to look at Dean. In one hand, he holds a blue paper plate with the remains of cake on it.

"That's some fine looking cake," Dean says with a hopeful grin.

The man half-laughs. "No, it's mighty tasty, my partner made it," the nameless police officer says. "She put pie filling in the middle there. It's her secret ingredient."

Dean gives a silent, open-mouthed laugh in return. "Who's birthday is it?"

"Oh mine," the officer says. "Sixty years."

Dean grins, "You're looking mighty good," Dean says, his eyes on the cake. "Oh ... I'd love to have me a piece."

Smiling, the man says, "Now, I know you didn't come in here for cake." Dean's glance at the cake tells a different story. "What can I do for you?"

"Jackie Prescott," Dean says.

The man looks sad, "I'm sorry son, I can't..."

"Rick was a friend of mine. I just .. need to know what happened."

The officer hesitates. "Yeah, we wrapped it up. We had a manhunt going." The man shakes his head. "Special forces officer and no cooperation from the base, but then he committed suicide. Poured gasoline all over himself and lit himself on fire."

"Why'd he do a crazy thing like that?" Dean asks.

"Oh I don't know. I wasn't there. I heard his face was messed up, scarred, like he was in a bomb blast. Might have had a brain injury or PTSD. My partner says he wasn't crazy at all, he was doing what he needed to do, to stop himself. But ... " the man shrugs.

"This partner of yours, can I talk to her?"

"Oh, Cathy's out on patrol, won't be back for a few hours."

Dean hands him a business card. "If she'd give me call."

"Sure thing," the man says.

With a last glance at the cake, Dean walks away.

**A House in Fayetteville**

The Impala is parked outside a small house. Inside, a woman with long brown-blonde hair and carrying a bald, blue-eyed baby talks to Sam. "Rick did it. I'm not trying to say that he didn't. But. I mean. He just got back from deployment and we've all seen what it can do to a soldier's mind. My Rick, when he's home, he's a good person. I have to put the spiders outside you know." The woman sniffles as she speaks. "Rick was a kind soul. He never wanted to harm anybody."

"Did you um, notice anything strange or weird?" Sam asks.

"Rick was, he was so... He was thirsty," Rick's wife answers. "He drank from the garden hose. One night I caught him in the tub drinking the bathwater. When I told him to stop it was like he couldn't even hear me," she says with a grin made bizarre by her emotion. "And his skin, it got so dry it bled ... and his face peeled all over."

"Did you go see a doctor?" Sam asks.

"I made an appointment at the V.A., but he stopped talking and just wasn't himself. He wouldn't go. It just got worse and worse." She sniffles, looking at her baby. "I thought maybe it was a disease he caught over there," she sniffles tearfully, turning away from Sam as she begins to sob.

"Uh, I'm very sorry." Sam says in a quiet voice. "Do you have any idea where Rick was deployed last?"

The woman stands with her back turned to Sam, looking at the photos of her family on the refrigerator. "No, all of that is classified."

"Right. Well, um. If something comes up, anything at all, just give me a call." Sam says, pulling a business card out of his pocket.

"There's one other thing. My friend Jemma, she's married to Kit, a guy from Rick's team. She lives at 241 Cliffdale." the woman turns and looks at Sam steadily.

Sam nods. "Thank you," he says sincerely.

**241 Cliffdale Avenue**

The Impala pulls over next to a nice house on the busy road. The house number reads 241.

"I'm not talking about this with you, Dean." Sam says in an exhausted voice, as they get out of the car.

"Great, because I'm not doing it," Dean says steadily.

Sam glares at Dean's back.

At the porch, Dean waits for Sam to walk up, then knocks loudly on the door.

After a moment, the door swings open. A tall woman with long, dark hair opens the door a crack and sticks her head out, "Hello?"

"Hi, I'm Michael, my brother Rob, we're friends of Rick and Beth," Sam lies smoothly. Dean gives the woman a nod and a smile.

"Yeah, sure .. come on in," the woman says with a quizzical smile. Sam and Dean follow her into a clean, modern living room. "It's horrible to even think about Rick and that woman he murdered. She wasn't in his team. She'd just gotten transferred here. I don't think they even knew each other. Would you like anything to drink? I made some unsweetened iced tea."

"Yeah, thank you Rob would love some tea. Beth told us that you might know more about what happened ... we'd just feel better if we knew why," Sam lies smoothly.

"Well I don't know what i can tell you. Kit isn't home," the dark-haired woman says.

"How's Kit doing?" Sam asks.

Jemma walks away, pouring a glass of iced tea. "Kit's been going through some stuff. Um .. you know it takes him a while to get back to normal .. he always does." She hands Dean a glass, "Sorry, it's bitter without honey in it. I try not to use sugar, and we ran out of honey. Kit was going to pick some up at the store."

"And what about you? How are you holding up?" Dean asks, sipping at the cold, bitter tea.

"I'm okay .. for the most part. You know what happened to Rick and Beth. It's been hard." She glances at a framed wedding photo on the wall, one of many scattered around the living room. "There but for the grace of God, you know."

"When will Kit be back?" Sam asks politely.

The woman's face freezes. "He, um, he went out last night, but he should be back any minute." She sits down, and Sam and Dean follow her lead and sit down also. "You know, Kit, he comes back from these deployments and he needs his space."

"So he's been out all night?" Dean asks, a note of judgment in his voice.

"Well .. yeah," the woman sneers back.

Sam and Dean avoid glancing at each other.

"God .. I can't even convince myself. I'm worried. This isn't like him," she says suddenly.

"Has he ... been thirsty?" Sam asks.

"How did you know?" Jemma asks, looking at Sam sharply.

"Beth mentioned it, maybe something they both caught on their last deployment," Sam lies smoothly.

"OH, Oh well that makes sense. I always felt that Rick and Kit had a special bond. They're always together. Anything that happens to Rick and Kit is right there with him, you know."

"Did Kit mention anything unusual about their last deployment?" Sam asks.

"Oh, all of that is classified, but Kit was complaining about going into a cemetery. You know, Rick is really squeamish and sensitive especially for someone in well .." Jemma cuts herself off, "...something was upsetting him about the mission. Kit doesn't usually complain about things like this to me, but then Kit was starting to act strange and ..."

"Strange how?" Dean interrupts.

"I don't know, what do you mean by that?" Jemma pauses, looking at Dean.

"Do you have any idea where Kit could have gone?" Sam interrupts to ask, before Jemma has a moment to think.

"Well, whenever Kit is really upset which is hardly ever, you know, once in a blue moon type of thing, he goes out to his dad's old cabin. Usually he drives around or goes to visit Rick, except," Jemma's voice quivers. "Well .. another one of Kit and Rick's friends came to visit after Rick's funeral. He's really worried about it. He's a little intense, and has this ... strange obsession that Rick and Beth were helping him with, but he's still in town. He said he's not leaving until he's sure that Kit is doing okay... I should have thought to call him before now." Jemma glances around, then picks up her cell phone from the counter. "If you'll excuse me, just a minute," Jemma says.

**Outside the House**

Sam and Dean leave the house. Cole Trenton sits on the hood of the Impala. He slips his cell phone into his pocket. "Recognized your wheels," he says, patting the car arrogantly.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean asks in a deliberately calm voice.

"Jemma called me. I've known Kit since we were military brats raisin hell on the same base, no way are you friends with Rick and Kit." Cole walks towards the brothers and faces them, crossing his arms across his chest. "Kit and Jemma are good people."

"No one's saying they're not." Dean answers calmly.

"Oh really now, so what - are you two here for Jemma's sweet tea? You want to tell me why you're really here?" Cole demands.

"That was some bitter iced tea since Kit went out last night and hasn't come back," Dean says calmly.

"Yeah, she just called me." Cole says, flexing his muscular arms held tightly across his chest. He looks at Dean, bracing himself, "What is it?"

Dean looks at Cole.

"Honestly, we're not sure just yet," Sam volunteers in a tired voice.

"Mm .. says you." Cole says challengingly.

"Look, we're not going anywhere and if you care about your buddy, you'll let us handle this." Sam says.

"Mm .. nah I think I'm gonna be coming with you." Cole says with cheerful arrogance.

"Oh the hell you are," Dean says.

"I got contacts ... I can help," Cole says, dangling his words in front of the brothers. "A friend of mine works military intelligence – owes me a favor." Cole says.

Sam glances at Dean, then looks at Cole. "Would he know what Rick and Kit's mission was?" Sam asks.

"Sure ... and I already asked him," Cole sneers.

"Okay, fine." Dean says.

"No, it ain't. You know I figure out what's going on here – I stick to you two like flies on roadkill – make sure my buddy comes home in one piece. I know what you two are thinking, you're not gonna hunt down my friend, who happens to be a friggin' war hero. We are going to find him and that's the difference," Cole rambles on agitatedly.

The front door opens suddenly. "Hey, Cole, uh," Jemma calls out. She looks at the three men. "Would you like to come inside? I have some more iced tea."

Sam gives Jemma a small smile, "Sure, we'd love to." He turns and walks into the house. Dean walks in without looking at Cole's tense face. Cole follows them inside and Jemma shuts the door.

"Please, have a seat," she says into the awkward silence. Cole leans against an arm of the sofa, while Sam and Dean sit down. Jemma pours more bitter iced tea into glasses.

"What's going on?" she asks, as she hands out the glasses.

Cole answers, "Jem, look, you remember Rick and Beth were helping me," Cole glances significantly at Dean.

Jemma glances at Dean.

"Well, they think Kit and Rick were involved with something .. you know ..." Cole smacks his leg nervously. "I know you don't believe me Jem, but those things are real. These guys .. they ain't FBI agents or whatever they told you ..."

Dean looks calmly at Jemma. Sam flicks a tired gaze between Cole and Jemma.

"Yeah ... I know," Jemma says in a slightly hesitant voice. "I called Beth and she told me that Michael visited her," she says, glancing at Sam.

"His name's Sam. It's not Michael." Cole says aggressively.

"Yeah..." Jemma looks down nervously, then glances over the men sitting in her living room. "Beth called the police officer who was working on Rick's case. A guy was at City Hall today, asking questions about the murder," she looks at Dean.

Dean looks up at Jemma, "Was the officer Cathy?"

Jemma nods hesitantly at Dean, "Yes .. maybe. If it is a ... monster ... what is it?"

Dean looks at Jemma as he answers, "Rick killed himself with fire."

Sam flicks Dean a glance.

"And they're both thirsty," Sam adds. "It's not much to go on." Sam looks earnestly at Jemma, "If we could talk to Kit, that would help a lot. We might be able to track his cell phone if you have his login..."

"Uh .. yeah ..., that's a great idea ..." Jemma hesitates, looking at Sam, then glancing over Cole and Dean.

Dean looks at Jemma and sips from his glass of unsweetened ice tea. Jemma looks at the glass of tea that is missing the honey that Kit went out for last night. "Yeah, here ...," Jemma picks up a small laptop from a table and sits down beside Sam, flipping the laptop open.

A cell phone buzzes in Cole's pocket. "There we go," he says, opening up his email. "I got an email here from my friend .. Kit and Rick were sent to rescue an American P.O.W. being held in Iraq in the Najaf Cemetery. Got some footage here from Rick's helmet cam."

A blurry, green-tinged video plays. Sam and Jemma look over from their laptops as Cole holds out his cell phone. Two soldiers walk down a corridor. The lights on their weapons are bright green beams moving over the scene. They fire. "Down, get down!" More gunfire as they reach an intersection. Blurry human figures fall. "Clear! Major Matt Jones! Hey, right here. Hey, Major Jones, is that you? Hey. Hey I'm Captain Kit Verson. We're here to bring you home." A man sits with his back turned to Kit. The man screams. Yelling, he whirls and lunges at Kit. He slams Kit's body across a tombstone. The man bends over Kit. "Aaaagh!" A muffled scream comes from Kit's mouth. The camera jerks as Rick runs forward. Out of view of the camera, Kit shouts, "What the hell! What the hell was that?" The face of the screaming man looms in the helmet camera, his mouth open wide. The video ends.

"Official story is the P.O.W. was shot by enemy combatants during the mission," Cole says.

"Huh," Sam mutters disbelievingly. He looks at his laptop. "Kit's moving, slowly, like he's on foot."

Jemma huddles next to Sam, looking at his laptop screen. She is trembling slightly, her hand covering her mouth, glassy-eyed. "He's close to his dad's old cabin by Uwharrie. It's an hour and a half drive from here. Cole, could I get a ride with you?"

"Yeah, o' course, Jem..." Cole starts to say.

"No, no ..." Dean says quickly, getting up. "It's dangerous. We still don't know what it is..."

Jemma's clear voice cuts across Dean's words, "I'm not leaving Kit out there. Haven't you seen this before?"

Sam and Dean glance at each other, then look at Cole and Jemma.

"Whatever it is, Rick killed himself to stop it. We'll know when we get in there." Dean says.

"Get in there, like kill him," Cole says.

"Yes, kill him, because that's the safest way, stop him before whatever monster or curse or whatever the hell it is takes over and he kills someone he really don't want to," Dean says.

Sam doesn't look at Jemma.

"He's my husband. We know each other. He won't .. he won't attack me. I know him. I can help and this craziness will be .. in the past. If there's a cure or any chance that he could be saved ... how can I give up that hope for him?" Jemma pleads with Dean. "Please .. I'm not going to leave him out there alone."

"Dean," Sam says, looking up with his pleading little brother face.

**A Forested Road**

Cole drives up to a dark cabin, Jemma is in the passenger seat of the jeep. He parks his jeep and gets out. They look at each other. Jemma stays in the car as Cole gets out.

Cole walks up to the cabin. He knocks. No one answers. Cole opens the door of the cabin. He calls out, "Hey Kit, are you here? It's Cole."

Behind him, he hears the sounds of the jeep's door opening and closing.

Cole's eyes sweep over dessicated dead rats and a squirrel lying on the floor. His footsteps echo loudly on the wooden floor. Cole opens a door to a small room in the cabin. Kit is sitting on a chair, hunched over, facing away from Cole. Kit coughs quietly, doubled over, his arms pressing into his belly.

Outside the cabin, Dean looks in through the front door.

"Hey Kit. Hey," Cole touches Kit's shoulder. Kit spins around, his face distorted and scarred as he looks at Cole.

"I am sorry. I can't stop myself." Kit says in a robot-like voice. He tackles Cole and they fall onto the floor. A worm slips out of Kit's mouth and falls onto Cole's face.

"Ungh!" Cole grunts a scream, his terrified face is distorted as the worm slips into his mouth.

A second worm slips out of Kit's mouth.

Thunk. The tip of Dean's knife misses the worm as it slithers away rapidly. Sam's legs scrabble on the floor. Sam's boot smashes the worm.

Kit runs for the cabin door, boots echoing loudly on the floor.

Jemma runs to Kit, hugging him, pressing her face into his chest.

"Cover your mouth!" Dean shouts.

Kit twists his face away from Jemma. Sam's long arm snakes around Kit's neck, lifting the man off his feet. Kit chokes.

"Leggo .. Jemma," Sam pants.

Dean roughly peels Jemma away from Kit. He shoots Kit with a taser. Kit's body stiffens and Sam lowers him to the floor. Sam and Dean tie up Kit, covering his mouth with duct tape. Jemma watches, her hands over her mouth.

Dean turns on a lamp as Cole coughs and gags on the floor.

"Something went down my throat," Cole says in a thick voice.

"All right Cole, just try and stay calm," Dean says calmly.

"Oh god, something just moved. It's alive," Cole says, his eyes rolling.

"We're gonna get it out of you," Dean says firmly.

"How!" Cole yells, grabbing at his chest and abdomen.

"We'll figure it out," Dean says. "Looked half like a khan worm," he says, glancing at Sam.

Sam holds Jemma as she shakes, looking between Kit and Cole. Sam holds her back from touching Kit. "Not, it's safer not to touch him. It looks like it goes in from the mouth, but we can't be sure."

"What's a khan worm?" Cole asks.

"Four years back, we tracked the trail of a monster to a cannery. This worm .. it went in through the ear and … it was freakin awful. Took control of our bodies, pretended to be us. Gwen and Rufus died." Dean says flatly.

"Alright, so you been to this rodeo before. How do we kill it?" Cole asks.

"Last time, electrocution made the worm leave the body," Dean says.

"Alright, fine, electrocution it is. I'm game," Cole says. "Hell, I have a wife, a kid, and an upside-down mortgage to get back to. Whatever it takes, Dean-o," Cole says.

"Okay," Dean says, looking at Cole.

Cole sits on the floor in a small room hastily cleared of other furnishings. He leans back against a wall. Sam holds Jemma by the shoulders as she watches Kit and Cole.

Dean shuts the door.

"So, last time you saw this thing, it turned people into killers too?" Cole asks.

"Yeah. It did a mind-control number on us ... no memory of what we'd done once it was out. The suckers moved a lot faster than these worms. Left black ectoplasm in the ear," Dean says.

"Damn," Cole takes a deep breath, scooting forward until he lies flat on his back. "Do it."

Dean fires the taser at Cole. The taser crackles and Cole's body shivers, "Uugh," Cole grunts in pain. Seconds count down on the taser .. 25 .. 24 .. 23 ... "Uung," Cole moans and grunts in pain. The taser counts down ...1.

Nothing happens. Dean stares at Cole's body.

"Freakin', that sucker should have crawled out by now," Dean mumbles to himself.

Cole wakes up. "Anything?" he mumbles in a hoarse, slurred voice.

"I'm not seeing anything yet," Dean growls.

"What?" Cole asks, disoriented.

"I'm not seeing anything yet," Dean repeats.

"Do it again," Cole says.

Dean looks at Cole.

"Again," Cole says. "Again!" Cole yells.

Dean shocks Cole again. Cole's face turn red and he seems to lose consciousness. Dean grabs Cole's head and slaps Cole's cheeks. Cole shivers and opens his eyes.

"Hey! Hey okay," Cole says, waking up suddenly. "Hey, all right, again, do it again," Cole says in a rough voice.

"No, we're done playing Operation. It's not working," Dean says. "Keep your head in the game. What do we know about this thing?"

"Sucker dries you out," Cole says. "I'm thirsty already, man."

"It needs water," Dean says.

"Rick drank blood from the vic he killed," Sam says.

"Huh, then burned himself alive. So, it's like a parasite. Drinks you dry, breeds in there, and then moves on," Dean extrapolates.

"So if I dry myself out, son of a bitch wouldn't like that very much, would he?" Cole says.

"No, it wouldn't," Dean says. "What do you think about rapid dehydration?" Dean asks.

"Big fan," Cole bluffs hoarsely. "Just make sure you squash that thing when it comes out."

Kit struggles on the floor. "Dean," Sam says. Dean tosses Sam the taser. Sam changes out the battery and stuns Kit again.

"Okay, we're on the clock," Dean says.

Cole says, "I can take it. Do it."

"Good." Dean draws a large knife and drives the tip of the blade into Cole's arm, then takes it out. Dark liquid oozes out and falls onto the wooden floor. Dean jiggles the wound to keep the blood flowing.

"Hnggg," Cole looks up at Dean. His eyes change. Bloody cracks are visible in the skin on the side of his face. "My dad, he got something inside him, too, right? You think this is what he felt like when he turned?"

"Maybe," Dean growls, crouching beside Cole. "He was human before he was a monster."

"I get it," Cole says. "Why you did it Dean. My dad ... wasn't my dad anymore." Cole pauses, looking at Dean. "All I can think about is slicing you up and drinking you like a fountain. Guess that makes me a monster too, don't it," Cole laughs and sobs in a choked voice.

"Listen to me," Dean says quickly. "You can fight this. Think about your family, hmm? Your wife, your kid. You hear me?" Dean deepens the deep cut in Cole's arm, eyeing the pool of spilled blood around Cole.

Cole gasps in a choked voice, "I ... appreciate ... the talk .. coach, unggggg!" Cole's throat ripples slowly upward with the movement of the worm. Cole's mouth slowly forces itself wide open. A khan worm surrounded by ectoplasm wriggles, its glistening pincers opening and closing in the air. Standing, Dean grabs Cole by the collar and drags Cole so his open mouth is over clear floorspace. The worm drops onto the wooden floor. Dean's boot smashes it.

"Bleurk," Cole braces himself on his knees and one arm. He coughs out ectoplasm, gagging and spitting.

Dean takes out a sewing needle, dental floss, and a flask of whiskey. In the room behind him, Jemma gets up and rummages through Cole's backpack.

Cole spits out a last mouthful of ectoplasm. Dean crouches by Cole and snaps off a piece of dental floss. Cole looks at Dean's version of medical supplies. "No! ... no. Get me my medical kit," Cole says.

"I can do that," Jemma says, already at Kit's side. "Please, take care of Kit." She opens up the medical kit.

Dean nods at her, then wipes off his blade. "Ready?" he asks Sam.

Sam holds Kit's trussed up body by the head. "Yeah." Sam turns Kit's face to the floor, then rips off the duct tape. Ectoplasms drips from Kit's mouth. Dean stabs Kit's wrist.  
Kit's cracked, bleeding face is impassive. Blood joins the ectoplasm on the floor.

"Don't ... stop," Kit grunts. A few long moments later, a khan worm protrudes from Kit's mouth, surrounded by greenish ectoplasm. Dean flicks the worm out with the tip of his knife. His boot smashes the worm.

**241 Cliffdale Ave**

Sam, Cole, Jemma, and Beth sit in Jemma's living room. Dean leans against a wall, Beth's baby in one arm and a bottle in the other hand. Sam speaks quietly, "I uh, for what it's worth, I really wish it hadn't ended this way."

"Yeah, me too Sammy boy. I guess I seen it all now. I just wanna go home, see my family. Soon as Kit's funeral is done and over," Cole rambles on. "I hope I never see you two again."

Sam smiles wryly.

"No offense," Cole says.

"None taken," Dean interjects, to prevent Sam from answering. Looking at Jemma, Dean asks, "You going to be okay?"

Beth wraps her arm around Jemma's shoulder. Jemma looks up at Dean, "As much as I can be. Thank you .. for trying to save Kit." Jemma sobs. Beth hugs Jemma.

The baby starts to cry. "Here," Beth says, arms reaching up to Dean to take her baby. Dean walks over and gently hands Beth the baby. Jemma dabs away the tears running down her face.

Dean looks at Sam. Sam gets up, saying, "If anything happens, give us a call okay?"

"Of course, thank you," Jemma says in a choked voice. "Take care, have a safe drive," she says.

Cole stands up, he holds out his hand to Dean. They shake, and Dean pats Cole on the shoulder as they turn away.

Sam and Dean walk to the Impala and get inside. Sam grimaces.

"Don't blame yourself for Kit," Dean says, looking at Sam. "Sometimes, no matter what you do, people die. We only the best we can, with whatever we got."

Sam doesn't answer.

"What, that's not it?" Dean looks at Sam.

"No. It's nothing," Sam answers.

"What .. come on." Dean grumbles impatiently.

"You sure bonded with Cole," Sam says in an annoyed voice.

"Is that what's bothering you?" Dean asks, a note of disbelief in his voice.

"Hey, he only tried to kill you," Sam says, covering up his main reason.

"Plenty of people have tried to kill me. Come on, we don't have to hold it against him. He thought I murdered his father, which I did when his father turned. It's not like I stopped to explain. I got the hell out of there as soon as he was dead," Dean says.

"Huh. Yeah ... he wouldn't listen when I tried." Sam says. "My shoulder still aches from when ... nevermind," Sam cuts himself off.

"What did he do to you?" Dean demands.

"It's nothing. I'm fine. Just tired," Sam gestures at the road.

Dean starts to open the car door. Sam taps Dean's chest with the back of his hand. "Really, it's fine." Sam gives Dean a look.

Dean looks at Sam. "Bitch," he mutters as he shuts the door.

"Jerk," Sam answers, a tiny quirk of his lips making a smile.

Dean starts the car and they drive off.


End file.
